


Dark Hunter

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Dark Series - Christine Feehan, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Demons, Hot Sex, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Sexy Times, Wincest - Freeform, cross over with christine feehans dark series, psychic!Sam, sam and dean are not brothers, trouser ripper, vampire!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 97,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Summary:  For hundreds upon hundreds of years, Dean has lived a barren existence, empty of color, emotion or a real connection to anyone.  That ends when Sam arrives in Romania.  Dean must find a way to make this reckless, infuriating, sassy, young man accept that he is Dean’s lifemate and that he needs Dean’s protection from darkness and evil, the likes of which Sam cannot fathom.A/N:Based on Christine Feehan’s Dark series.  Except for SPN show characters, the remaining characters, and the world they are playing in, belong to Feehan.  If you enjoy het romance with hot alpha vamps, we highly recommend her series.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sam/Dean
Comments: 163
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/magic_pix/49843315128/in/dateposted-public/)   
> 

CHAPTER 1

As Sam stood on the well-tended wooden train station platform looking out toward the mountains, he still couldn’t believe he was in Europe. Really, actually in Europe. 

He vaguely recalled the street fair, back in Pennsylvania, and the booth where they’d been selling raffle tickets to raise money to help a family with young twins who had cancer. The tickets were ten dollars each and Sam had bought one because he’d made a big score the night before and was flush with cash for a change. With his sucky luck, he never expected to win the trip was to Romania, apparently the homeland of the parents, but frankly, it sounded cool. It was a two-week trip through the countryside, with stays in little inns or ancient bed and breakfast places. Transportation on the trip included bus and train rides, and even a horse and carriage ride. 

When they’d emailed him and told him he’d won the raffle, he hadn’t even remembered entering it and initially thought it was a scam. As he read the award letter though, it had all sort of drifted back into his memory. 

The trip was for two people and he’d asked Bobby if Bobby wanted to go. Bobby refused, saying he didn’t want to go flying here and yon and wandering about some countryside littered with ridiculous tales of Dracula-like vampires and haunted inns. Sam had thought about asking Jo after that, but he didn’t want to give Jo the wrong idea. He liked the idea of going on an honest-to-god vacation, but he had to admit he wished he had a significant other to take with. He was tired of doing everything alone, but he was a hunter, and that was the way of most hunters. He did have a few college friends who he still kept in touch with, but most of them had moved on, gotten married, and they couldn’t just pick up and leave to go off to Romania for two weeks. 

He decided it would be nice going someplace where he could be ‘normal,’ where no one knew who he was, where he didn’t have to hunt and didn’t have to con people into thinking he was someone that he was not. He toyed with the idea of maybe backpacking around Europe for a couple months, visiting all those places he had read about throughout the years. That might have been why, more than anything else, that he’d decided to go on this adventure alone. He didn’t want anyone trying to convince him to come home after the two weeks were up. He warned Bobby that he might stay for a while, but he would email whenever he had a chance.

At first, Bobby had thought Sam was joking. But hearing the wistfulness in Sam’s voice when he spoke about traveling around Europe, he’d realized Sam was serious. Lord knew the kid had had a rough and lonely life, never getting much of a vacation as his father drove them all over the country, hunting. Sam had tried to escape the life and go to college, but then John went missing and Sam had left his dreams of college behind, trying to track his father down. When Sam succeeded in finding John-- what was left of John-- there was really no going back for Sam. He was twisted up and bitter, having lost both his parents to the supernatural. For those first few years, he’d been a frightening type of hunter. Since then, Sam had mellowed a little, but Bobby was convinced this trip might be just what John’s boy needed to really find himself.

Bobby presented Sam with five thousand dollars, told him he wanted Sam to take his time, to enjoy being in Europe, to see the sights, and to find his heart again. He also said Sam was not to come back until he had actually had some fun and gotten the stick out of ass.

Now, finally here, Sam was looking up at the mountains, seeing the mist roll through the dark forests. He felt a thrill go through him as he swung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the train station to find his ride to the town he was staying in for the next few days.

*

An older man with a thick dark mustache was holding up a sign with Sam’s name on it. The man leaning against a black car, his face buried in the newspaper he was reading.

Sam smiled and approached him, hoping he spoke English. His Romanian was limited to a few phrases, though he had his phone and could use it for some translation if needed.

“Salut. I’m Sam Winchester.” 

The man broke into a smile and put the sign and newspaper under his arm, then held out his hand. “Salut, Mr. Winchester. Welcome! Luggage?” he asked. His speech was heavily accented, but he spoke clearly and slowly.

“Nu,” Sam said in Romanian and jerked a thumb towards his backpack. “Just this.”

“Trip was good?” the man asked and opened the back door for Sam.

Sam nodded. A couple of the cars he’d ridden in had been a little cramped for his six-foot, four-inch frame, but he was used to it and he would just close his eyes and go to sleep. He could sleep damn near anywhere and in any position. He pulled off his backpack and tossed it in, then followed, sliding into the back seat.

“You are from Pennsylvania, da? You know my niece?” he asked hopefully.

“No. I was just passing through and bought the raffle ticket,” Sam said.

“Ah.” The man was obviously a little disappointed. “You will be asked by everyone on trip. We are family, ones who make this trip for you. Airlines donate, trains donate, places you stay, guides, all are family. You will be treated like family.”

Sam smiled, his dimples showing. “I don’t have any family. It’ll be nice, Mr...”

“Alin. Alin Arcos. You call me Alin, da?”

“Yeah. Yes. Okay. Multemesc, thank you, Alin. Call me Sam.”

The man grinned. “Trip is fifteen, twenty minutes. Tell me of America, Sam.”

“I’ll tell you something, then you tell me something about this place, your home. Deal?”

“Da, deal, Sam,” Alin said with a nod.

With another smile, Sam began talking.

* * *

The pain was almost unbearable. The poison in the shafts of the arrows buried deep inside him had seeped into his system and were starting to cripple him, to paralyze him. If he’d been a younger Carpathian, if he hadn’t seen hundreds upon thousands of dawns, they would have captured him by now. 

They still might.

Dean rejected the notion. On his knees, inside the caverns he had taken shelter in, he twisted around, gripped the shaft of one of the arrows that had pierced through his kidney, closed his eyes, and started to pull it out.

A scream built in his throat, but he suppressed it. The vampires were combing the area, looking for him. He could feel it, he knew it. And he would not give himself away, not before he brought the news to his prince. He would not fail.

As more poison leaked into his system, the bile rose in his throat. He threw his head back and pulled the thick arrow out. In its wake, his blood flowed down his hips and thighs, pooling at his knees. 

He couldn’t start to repair the damage yet. He still had to get the second arrow, the one in his back, out. But first, he needed to rest. Dropping onto his hands and resting his head on the earth, Dean took a few deep breaths, then stilled completely.

There was a disturbance. Dean’s eyes flicked open. It wasn’t dark and tainted. Not like a trail left by a vile vampire. It was something else. Something close. Dean reached out with his mind, seeking it out, needing with every fiber of his being to identify it.

His mind brushed against someone else’s mind. Someone who was humming a God-Awful song, made that much worse because the person was way off-key. And yet, to Dean, it was a beautiful sound. That was until he realized just how close the person was, and how much danger they were in.

 _What are you doing here? It is not safe for you. Leave. At once,_ he commanded, memorizing the person’s mind paths so he would always be able to find them.

*

Sam had decided to go hiking in the hills near the town and Alin assured him it was relatively safe so long as he was back before the sun started to go down. There were some wolves in the area, but this was a bountiful time and it was unlikely they would bother him. Still, he was warned to stay alert for them and to stick to paths. He kept careful tally of the paths that he took, making notes when and where he wyed off from them and left some sort of mark that would be obvious to him. When he’d found some caves and no tell-tale signs of animals inhabiting them, he decided to check them out, setting the alarm on his watch to make certain he would make it back to town before dark.

He had been in the caves for a while, meandering slowly, taking his time, humming the latest Shakira song he had heard on the flight over. At least he thought it was Shakira. It had a catchy tune that he was pretty sure he was mangling, but not like there was anyone to hear him.

And then he heard the voice and froze. The voice that sounded like it was practically inside his skull. He couldn’t even convince himself he hadn’t heard it because it repeated again. 

_I said leave, now!_

Too many years of hunting, of having heard _that_ tone of voice coming from his father when there was real and tangible danger ready to rip out his throat, kept him from calling out, demanding the person show themselves. Instead, he concealed himself in a niche, turning off the flashlight and trying to steady his breathing. If there was danger here, he needed to make certain that heading back out the way he had come wasn’t walking him right into it.

“Who are you? Where are you? Are you okay?” Sam whispered softly, hoping the guy could hear him.

The voice made Dean’s blood sing, his heart pump. He could scarcely believe the emotions that were rushing through him. Emotions he hadn’t felt in over four hundred years. _Do not worry about me. Get yourself away, do it now. I will find you later._ There was a caress in Dean’s mental thought.

Sam blinked. That voice was… was inside his head. He was going crazy. Yeah, there must be fumes in these caves or something. Must be some good hallucinogens, especially considering the way his whole body reacted to that voice. He was momentarily transfixed. _Am I nutso, or are we talking psychically? Telepathically. Whatever. And I can fight. And--_ Sam frowned. _And you’re hurt and need help. Where are you? Let me help you,_ he said, knowing he shouldn’t be sitting in a cave talking to something that obviously was psychic and probably not even human. It was probably something that he should be hunting and was likely baiting him to get him to come in closer. He should go, he really should, but he just… couldn’t.

 _You know that inner voice in your head? Listen to it, listen to me. Run._ Rising to his knees and looking down, Dean saw the blue of his jeans and the red of his blood. For centuries, all he’d seen was shades of white, gray and black. Until now. _Tell me your name, then go. Please,”_ he added, only because he feared what might happen if the vampires got a hold of his _lifemate_. 

_Sam. Sam Winchester,_ he told the stranger. His gut was telling him to run, that there was something here and it was dangerous, and he didn’t have any real weapons with him other than a knife he had borrowed from Alin, a small salt shaker, a flask of some holy water, and a two inch iron nail.

 _Well, fuck,_ Sam thought and listened for noises. He didn’t hear anything. Taking a deep breath, he turned on his flashlight and headed back along his carefully marked path until he reached the outside. _Can you still hear me?_ Sam asked hopefully. _I’m out of the caves._

 _You’re yelling, why wouldn’t I hear you?_ Dean chuckled, even though it hurt like hell. _I will always hear you. Now please, leave the area. As fast as you can._ Dean wasn’t sure how much longer he could shield Sam from feeling his pain, so he severed their connection and reached behind his back.

This time, he pulled the arrow out quickly. The blinding pain, the tremors that tore through his body, they were nothing. Nothing compared to the hope in his heart, and the knowledge that he had to survive. He had to, for both their sakes.

Sam paused, staring back into the darkness of the cave. As readily as there was one voice, his dead father’s voice, telling him to get the hell out of there, there was another voice telling him to stay, that the stranger was important to him.

“Nuts. I’m going nuts. Heatstroke. Thin air. Something,” Sam muttered to himself. He paused long enough to take a picture of the cave with his phone then took off at a steady jog, heading back to the small village at the fastest clip he could manage without winding himself before reaching the town.

* * *

By nightfall, Dean had repaired much of the damage to his body. He needed to replenish the blood he’d lost before he could go to ground and allow the rich Carpathian soil to heal him. He had to be at full strength before he would call to his prince and the others. He needed to be sure that his entire message would get to them, and that they would know what they could be facing.

But there was something else he needed. Someone he desperately had to find. 

Before emerging from the caves, Dean sent his senses ahead, seeking, searching for signs of the vampires. The air around him was slightly tainted, and he had no doubt that they had laid traps and were still searching for him. 

He raised his hands up. The air crackled around him and the skies suddenly grew cloudy. In the blink of an eye, he shifted to the form of a sleek, black wolf, and he raced through the mountains, knowing exactly where he needed to be.

* * *

The city was loud. Dean had kept away from cities for an exceptionally long time. It would have been dangerous for him to meet too many people at a time. He’d been on edge... on the very edge of turning into a vampire. But he’d clung on, promising himself and his people, that when and if the time came, he would sooner meet the sun than turn. 

Now, the young man inside this raucous tavern, had pulled him back from the ledge. He could see colors. Feel emotions. He had hope. 

Back in human form and dressed in black jeans and a silky white shirt, Dean walked inside the tavern and took a seat at the bar. He sensed that he was drawing a lot of looks. It was simply the allure of his kind, nothing more. And right now, he was interested in only one man. A man standing at the bar, a few empty seats away from Dean.

Sam’s back was to him for the moment, but Dean’s blood sang in his veins just at his nearness. His eyes grew dark though when he saw a man put his hand on Sam’s shoulder as the two of them chugged down large mugs of beer.

 _Step away from him. He is not to touch you._ Dean’s expression turned steely.

Sam dropped his mug and spewed the last of it. The guy he was drinking with, Sasha, slammed his hand on Sam’s back. “I tell you, American not made for Romanian drink. You o-kay, Sam?” he asked, laughing.

Sam nodded, still coughing out some of the beer. He slowly turned and scanned the bar. His gaze slid right past a guy in a white shirt but then snapped back to him. He licked his lips, feeling nervous as he met the guy’s gaze. 

The guy was like someone walking right out of a Chippendale’s calendar. Muscular. Perfect, even beautiful. Though he didn’t usually think of guys as beautiful, this one was. He felt like lightning was going through his every nerve, and all of the noise in the bar faded away to nothing. Shaking his head once as if to clear it, he turned away from the guy and motioned for another beer.

Taking a deep breath, Sam began chugging the newest tankard. He got half of it down. _So, are you the one in the white shirt staring at me like I’m your next meal? Ready to rip the arms off anyone who comes near me?_

_What do you think?_ Dean asked in a slightly accented voice. Then as an afterthought, he asked, _Are you trying to get drunk, Samuel? Someone will try to take advantage of you. I forbid it._ As he spoke, he looked into the mirror behind the bar, and in front of Sam. His gaze traveled over every inch of Sam Winchester, every line of his body, his face, his sensuous lips clamped around the edge of the tankard. He was beautiful. Both inside and out. Dean already knew it, though he was just learning the paths of Sam’s mind and would get to know him even better soon. Very soon. 

_Dude, my father died years ago. Don’t need another one now. One, I’m gay, so guys can be extra friendly if I want them to. Two? I can get as drunk as I want. Three, I can fucking take care of myself. Four, you can’t forbid me from doing a damned thing. What are you, anyhow? Shifter? Hell, you’re good-looking enough to be an incubus, but I don’t know if they’re telepathic. And it’s Sam. Not Samuel. Samuel was my grandfather._ Sam finished the beer then motioned to the bartender to get the upper shelf stuff and pour him a double. He picked up the glass, looked directly at the telepathic asshole, and tossed back the drink. He set it down on the bar and motioned for a refill.

Staring at Sam, Dean didn’t know whether he wanted to throttle him for his insolence, laugh at the comparison with an incubus, or to simply walk over, throw him over his shoulder and claim him. The heat in his eyes said as much, but he explored Sam’s mind a little more, thinking perhaps Sam was lashing out at him of fear. Pushing deeper into Sam’s mind, he discovered there wasn’t one iota of fear in him. The complete absence of fear was… unusual.

 _Lucky for you I’m in a good mood and won’t take anything you said as an insult. Now stop being childish and cancel your drink._ Dean expected immediate obedience; instead, he saw Sam motioning again with his hands. Seeing the bartender start to pour, Dean’s lips pressed into a flat, straight line. He stared at the bottle. It shattered. 

The man had cut his hand. The smell of blood permeated the air. Dean’s hunger beat at him. It took him a moment to control the beast within, to rein it in. He looked at Sam again. _Take that as fate or destiny speaking to you. Come. I will make sure you get home safely._ His voice seductively dropped down an octave. 

Sam had admittedly jumped when the bottle shattered. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the stranger. He heard the siren tones in the man’s voice and walked over to him, fighting the desires lighting up his insides. Gripping the back of a bar stool beside the man he hissed, “I don’t believe in fate, I don’t believe in destiny, but I do know there are assholes like you everywhere. In fucking cesspools, fine palaces, motels, bars, and every country and place in the world. You’re not special, and I don’t take orders from anyone, not anymore. So fuck off. And whatever you are, I’m on vacation. I’m not here to hunt, I don’t want to hunt, so just leave me and these good people the hell alone.”

 _Anger?_ Dean gave an amused chuckle. _You’re beautiful when you’re incensed and ferocious._

Dean drew in Sam’s scent. It was wild and beautiful, as indescribable as the man who stood in front of him, challenging him, unaware of the power he was dealing with. Perhaps blessedly, also unaware of the power he held over Dean.

Heat coursed through Dean, desire beating at him. The demon inside demanded he take what was his, to do it now, before anyone else had the chance to steal Sam away. He reached out and, cupping Sam’s face, ran his thumb across his soft, well-formed lips. The air between them sizzled with his longing and desire. “Wouldn’t you rather make love than war?” he rasped aloud, his gaze lingering on Sam’s sinfully desirable mouth. 

Sam practically creamed his shorts. The guy’s voice was even more mesmerizing than hearing it in his head. Sam was hard, just like that. Swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbed. He was in trouble and he knew it. 

“Stay away from me,” Sam whispered and pulled away from the guy’s touch, practically running out of the bar to head for the safety of his room. After the caves, he’d discretely laid lines, drawn a devil’s trap and obtained cold iron weapons and holy water for his room. 

Dean let him go. For one thing, he didn’t want to draw any attention before he was completely healed. For another, he sensed that Sam might not back down. That would be dangerous. Dean had lost touch with the world, with feelings and emotions, for far too long. He had been close to the point of no return, when it was either face the sun, or become a monster. Something, something had made him hang on though, and that something was Sam Winchester. And until he had better control over his demon, Dean would avoid direct confrontation. If Sam angered him and if he lost control, it would be tragic.

* * * 

Hours later, after sating his thirst for blood, Dean knew he should simply go to ground and until he healed. Instead, he searched for Sam, needing to be close to him for just a little while longer.

It didn’t take him long to find the boarding house that Sam was staying at. It was on the edge of town, abutting the forest. Leaning against a tree, Dean looked up at the second-floor window, from which the light was spilling. 

The instant his mind touched Sam’s, a rush swept through him. He steadied himself, then quietly watched and learned what Sam was doing, frowning as he tried to make sense of it. All that salt... the iron bars and tools... the manner in which Sam paced in his room, stopping to type into his laptop every few minutes. Was Sam afraid he would harm him? The thought pained Dean.

 _Don't fear me, Fierce One. Don’t fear anything this night, for I will watch over you and make sure nothing disturbs you. Sleep. Rest,_ Dean ordered. Unbidden, thoughts of Sam undressing to get into bed crept into his mind. He didn’t shield either his thoughts or his reactions to them, from Sam.

“Oh yeah, cause that’s so freaking comforting to know you’re out there watching me,” Sam muttered after the startlement of hearing that voice in his head again passed. The sudden mental images that flooded his mind, the erotic thoughts and feelings had him flushing. _Dude! Stop perving on me! I don’t need a supernatural stalker. I just want a nice normal vacation away from my real life!_ Sam sank down to sit on the bed, finding he was growing sleepy but fighting it. He had more research to do, to try to figure out what the guy was. Not very many creatures were known to be telepathic, so he’d emailed Bobby for information, but Bobby hadn’t gotten back to him yet. Reluctantly, Sam started to pull off his shirt, but felt the stalker’s attention on him heighten. _You are such a perv!_ Sam complained, then giving a frustrated huff, he pulled his shirt back down. No way was he getting naked with super-perv out there. _If you’re gonna hang around and annoy me, at least tell me your name._

 _You think to hide yourself from me?_ Dean asked, smiling for the first time in years. _You can't hide from me, any more than I can hide from you. And there is nothing ‘perverted’ about wanting to be with your lifemate._ Pushing aside the irritation he sensed from Sam, he gave Sam a visual of himself, crawling over Sam in the bed and slowly kissing him. _Come, search my mind and find your answers._ The thought of Sam joining him inside his mind was as arousing as the thoughts of being together physically.

 _Life-what? You think you and me--we’re gonna--mate? What the hell? Okay that’s it, dude. Out of my head. Outta my head or I pull out the dreamcatcher that’ll keep you out of my head, out of my dreams, out of my everything,_ Sam declared, trying to push away the image of Mr. Gorgeous crawling up his body and those soft lips--no. Just, no. That was too enticing and this guy wasn’t even human, Sam was pretty certain. Sam wasn’t going to have fantasies about the psychic stranger, because his dad wouldn’t just be rolling in his grave, he’d be spinning like a top in it. If he had a grave and hadn’t been salted and burned like a hunter should be. _Can’t say it any clearer. Go away._

 _It doesn’t work that way,_ Dean countered, _You’re my lifemate. That means you are mine, as I am yours. In ways that you cannot yet comprehend, but surely already feel in your heart and soul. When I leave here, you will find yourself reaching out for me. That is normal. We are part of each other now, and for all time. Come, Love, don’t be so stubborn._

_Yeahhhh--no. You won’t tell me your name, won’t tell me what you are. Kinda hard to pull up even the tiniest grain of trust for you. And hell no, I’m not crawling around in your brain. I wouldn’t begin to know how, and I wouldn’t know how to stop you from doing something to me even if I tried to check out your brain. Oh, and buddy? You haven’t begun to see stubborn._ Sam knew he should stop talking to the guy. He kept trying to convince himself it was the alcohol, or something he inhaled or ate, but his gut told him this was real, he was really talking telepathically with some supernatural ‘it’ that had a hard on for him.

He ought to be angered by the ridiculous denials, but Dean had never been one to enjoy the company of those who didn’t question or challenge. That a mere human challenged him made his heart sing, though he did have to keep a tight control on his demon. Unlike Dean, the demon would quickly grow tired of waiting. _My name is Dean. For when you call out my name in your dreams,_ he added. _My mind is open to you, should you wish to explore._

“Dean,” Sam murmured and felt his heart stutter a bit. He pushed away the feelings that made him feel strangely giddy. He was a lot of things, had been a lot of things through the years, but ‘giddy’ had never been a word he’d used to describe himself and he damned well wasn’t going to start now. He was a Winchester, dammit! Refocusing on Dean he asked, _You going to tell me what you are? Other than my supposed mate and protector?_

 _I’m not a ‘what’ or an ‘it,’ any more than you are,_ Dean responded firmly. _I am a Carpathian warrior. A hunter of... It really would be easier to explain if you searched my mind. I could show you,_ he invited once more, this time infusing his thoughts with subtle persuasion. 

Sam chewed over Dean’s words. Reluctantly he gave an apology. _Sorry. Half of the supernatural crap I hunt can’t put two syllables together,_ he said, wondering what sort of things this guy hunted. _They are ‘its’ and ‘things.’ ...Look I was raised to kill anything not Human. So, you know, this whole ‘come into my brain’ thing just feels… feels like you’re the spider and I’m the fly and I’m not keen on getting my juices sucked out._ A part of him wanted to just sort of take a peek in the guy’s brain, while the rest of him was triggering every alarm he had. He reached over and typed ‘Carpathian Warrior’ into the computer to see what it brought up, but stopped abruptly, realizing what he’d just said. He blinked and straightened. _No, wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to imply--my juices--_ He brought a hand to his forehead as he felt himself turn positively scarlet with embarrassment.

 _I am nothing like a spider. I kill things that are like spi--_ Dean’s amusement abruptly ended as Sam’s words sent his mind spinning in directions Sam had not intended. Images carded through his mind, images he shared freely, of himself between Sam’s legs, in one position after another. Lust. Heat. Desire for his lifemate swept through him, bringing long dormant physical needs alive. His eyes darkened as he raised his face up, battling the sudden urge to make Sam his, here and now. _You should choose your words more wisely, Fierce One. At least until you’re ready for me._ Though he tried to joke, he couldn’t completely hide the strain he was under.

Sam’s eyes widened as the images spilled into his mind. Almost without intending to he grabbed a pillow and covered his hardening member as if that would stop his arousal or keep Dean from sensing it. _Uh… yeah. I think… I think I am kinda… you know… tired now. Why don’t you, uh, run along now..._ get the fuck out of my head so I can jack off! _go get some rest yourself. Okay?_ Sam asked, hoping the guy didn’t feel his sudden need to take care of his cock. 

Dean’s fingers bit into the bark of the tree, scarring it. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, but it did nothing for the heat rushing through his veins and pooling low in his belly. Nor could he ignore Sam’s discomfort. _I can do that for you too,_ he offered, now envisioning his hand moving up and down Sam’s hard cock. _It is inevitable. Why not now? I can spare you the discomfort. Show you all the ways we are meant to be together._ His breaths grew harsh, and he knew he needed to make up his mind right now. He couldn’t stay this close to Sam in a state of limbo, not in his weakened condition when fighting the demon would be harder than usual.

Sam groaned when he saw the things the guy was thinking of doing, of Dean’s hand on his cock. He hadn’t been this hard up for it in… well, never, that he could recall. _Dean,_ Sam said, trying to take deep breaths, trying desperately to ease his painfully hard cock, _I appreciate your offer. I do. But… no. You’re not… human, and I am, and… I just can’t, even if I was… we were… just not happening._ When the hell was the last time he’d ever even been this tongue-tied talking--thinking--whatever, to a guy? Another first. The guy tied him up in knots. Not guy. Carpathian. Whatever that was. Probably a mummy underneath that gorgeous illusion because real people just weren’t that hunkalicious. Sam shook his head. _Hunkalicious??_ Fuck, this guy was making him a lovesick, swooning girl.

Dean was vacillating between smugness at the reactions he was drawing from Sam and taking offense at his other thoughts still relegating him to a “thing.” Then the strange word caught his attention. _Hunkalicious? Is that a... compliment?_ he asked, a little uncertainty creeping into his tone. Unable to wait for an answer, he delved into Sam’s mind. _You made up that word,_ he accused, _but I will take it in the spirit it was made, as a compliment. Of course I will let you explore any part of me that you want to, to make sure I’m real. Or for any other reason you might want to explore._ He longed for the man beyond those windows. Longed for him with an intensity a human would never understand.

Sam buried his face in the pillow. _Dude, not cool. My own thoughts aren’t for Carpathian consumption,_ he said, not wanting to egg the guy on, yet reluctant to be harsh and tell the guy to get lost. Because if Dean really were ‘real’ and he just wanted a one night, or you know, three-night, fling, Sam was beginning to think he could maybe get onboard with that. No-no-no. This wasn’t happening! What was _wrong_ with him?

After taking a deep breath, he sat up and bit his lower lip. _Dean, I, ah, appreciate the attention and all, but I’m only here through tomorrow night. Then I move on. It wouldn’t be fair to you or me, to start something--maybe start something and then just up and leave. I’m not really a one-night stand kind of guy. Not usually. Please. Can we just call this some temporary insanity and you go look for your lifemate elsewhere?_ Sam asked, unsure what he wanted Dean to say, even if his mind knew exactly what words he wanted to hear. Something deeper didn’t want to hear Dean agreeing and going away. And that was just freaking nuts.

Clouds gathered overhead, though Dean managed to shield Sam from the brunt of his anger and jealousy. _I do not want to hear about your ‘stands’ …one night or otherwise... with others. Get some rest. I will see you tomorrow, and the next day, and everyday thereafter. If you get lonely, call out for me._ Looking down at the rock-hard bulge in his own pants, Dean allowed Sam to get a glimpse of the terrible need that engulfed him. _I will dream of you,_ he promised. 

Sam swallowed hard, feeling Dean’s almost savage need for him. He jerked back when he felt the brush of lips across his own and reached out, trying to determine if the guy could go invisible. Either the guy moved too fast, or Sam was imagining things. Most probably the latter. Most probably he was feverish in his bed back in the States. “Uh, yeah, later,” Sam murmured and waited until he didn’t think Dean was listening to him and he hurried to the bathroom to take care of what Dean had started.

* * * 

Sam slept in a lot longer than he had intended and it was nearly lunchtime before he rose. Practically his first thought upon waking was Dean. Where was he? Was he watching him? He reached out in his mind for that annoying presence, only to find emptiness. It made his gut twist.

Checking his email, he found he had received some answers to his Carpathian inquiries.

“Vampires? They’re fucking vampires?” Everything inside Sam’s gut twisted up and he felt cold and lonely. They were vampires in the middle of a civil war apparently. Carpathian warriors hunted one another. But vampires. It wasn’t like he could easily get into a local morgue and get some deadman’s blood to keep the pervy vamp away from him… because he needed to keep Dean… away.

Sam’s jaw clenched and he found himself reaching out, hunting for Dean again. “Dammit, no,” he growled to himself.

He quickly packed what few things he had out. He spoke with Alin about moving his day to leave up to today. He made some excuse about some allergies to something in the area and asked if Alin could help him out. Alin made some phone calls and got Sam a revised ticket to leave late afternoon. Sam thanked him profusely and spent the rest of the time until the train would leave sampling some of the local cuisine and window-shopping.

* * *

Sam settled back in the train-seat as it sped across the countryside, trying to bury the almost panic he felt at not sensing Dean anymore. That just proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had needed to get away from there. He’d spend some extra time in the next little town, staying in a guest room at the local castle, no less. Yeah, just focus on the castle, Sam told himself, finding himself nodding off as the train raced along its tracks.

* 

When Dean rose from the ground, it was late afternoon and the sun was just setting. For the first time in centuries, his dreams had been in color, rather than dreary black and gray. And instead of a scowl, he woke with what could pass for a smile in some quarters.

As he shook off the rich Carpathian soil and in a single thought, re-clothed himself, he reached out with his mind, seeking his lifemate. _Did you dream of me? My dreams were filled with--_ A frown marred Dean’s brow as it became clear to him that Sam was gone. Not gone, but leaving. Leaving this land. Leaving him.

The dark beast within him snarled and snapped, calling him a fool for not having made Sam his last night. It took Dean several moments to calm the beast and rein in his own anger and fears. _Sam?_ The resounding silence stirred his ire. _Do not take my kindness for granted, Fierce One. Make no mistake, if I want to, I can force your will._

Leaves lifted off the ground and swirled around him as he shifted into a large wolf, with fierce yellow eyes, and took off to find his lifemate.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean entered the last passenger car of the train and didn’t even have to search for Sam. He felt exactly where his lifemate sat and focused on him instantly. The car was filled with humans, over-filled with them. Some could definitely stand a bath, Dean thought, though his own lifemate’s scent was seductively addictive.

A sleeping passenger with long red ringlets of hair was sitting entirely too close to Sam. It was more than irritating. When her head rolled onto Sam’s shoulder, a look of sheer displeasure crossed his features Taking a deep breath, he pushed into Sam’s mind and willed him to look up.

Half-drowsing in his seat, Sam tried to shift away from the woman using his shoulder as a pillow. He had a magazine in his lap, but he’d really given up trying to read it since, well, since it was in Romanian. With a sigh he blinked his eyes open and looked around. His eyes immediately came to rest on Dean.

“Holy crap!” slipped out of Sam’s mouth before he realized it. He rubbed his eyes, hoping it was just his imagination. How had Dean gotten on board?

Dean raised a brow. _That is a strange way to greet your lifemate._

Sam’s jaw set at a stubborn angle. _I’m not your lifemate!_

_Come._ A muscle throbbed in Dean’s jaw. He put his hand out and stared intently at Sam. 

Before he realized it, Sam found himself standing and taking Dean’s hand. As soon as his hand closed around Dean’s, he felt like he’d taken hold of a live wire, electricity and heat rushing through every part of him. He tried to stop, to let go, to pull away, but Dean’s moss green eyes had a strong hold on him and he could only stand there, staring at Dean. _Gotta shake loose,_ Sam told himself, trying to fight it.

With one powerful tug, Dean had Sam sprawled across his chest and struggling to straighten. Reaching up with his free hand, he cupped the side of Sam’s face, his heart thundering in his ears, his entire being vibrating with life. _Why? Why do you fight this?_ he half demanded, his gaze dropping to Sam’s sensuous lips. 

_Because you aren’t giving me a choice. I didn’t stand up because I wanted to. I stood up because you forced your will on me like I’m some puppet. And you’re a vampire. Tell me you won’t turn me, tell me you’ll leave me human,_ Sam demanded in return, his heart thundering in his own chest, finding himself falling into those treacherous green eyes and licking his lips as he tried to convince himself he did not want Dean to kiss him. The touch of Dean’s fingers along his face was a riot of sparks and energy and fireworks inside him.

“Carpathian. Not vampire. Big difference,” Dean whispered, his entire body tuned to Sam’s, hearing his blood rush through his veins, seeing his eyes darken, and sensing his arousal. Bringing his mouth down over Sam’s, he kissed him lightly at first, coaxing him to respond, and knowing Sam could no more resist him than he could ever resist Sam.

When Dean’s warm lips pressed against his, Sam tried to pull back. At least in his mind he did. His body had completely different ideas as he wrapped his arms around Dean. He’d had lovers through the years but none had ever melted him, warmed him, filled him with desire like Dean did. His eyes closed and he moaned with need as heat swamped him and his cock grew steadily harder.

Too fast, Dean found himself wanting to do things they could not in full view of everyone. He ought to pull away, but the beast pushed him. Drove him to deepen the kiss, to mold Sam’s body against his, to give him a taste of why he knew they were meant for each other. By the time he pried his mouth away, he was facing a car full of staring people. 

One swift glance from Dean, and most of them looked away. 

“I have a private cabin in first class. It will be more comfortable. Is that all you’re carrying?” he asked, noticing for the first time the backpack Sam had pulled onto his shoulder. 

Again Sam wanted to tell him ‘no,’ that he didn’t want or need his charity. He certainly did not want to be alone with a--a vampire who already had its sights set on Sam, but Sam found he couldn’t pull away from Dean, that he didn’t _want_ to pull away from him. “Yeah, just the backpack. I don’t need much.” Swallowing hard, fear fighting with desire, he gave a nod. “Lead on Macduff.”

“It’s Dean.” Giving Sam a warning look about trying to stick him with some strange nickname, he gave a nod. _Do not fear me. I could never hurt you. From now on, it is my role to keep you safe and free from pain._ Pushing the door open, he started the long trek through the connecting carriages of the train.

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Shakespeare. One of the ten misquoted lines.” Seeing the look Dean gave him, Sam shut up with a huff. _I don’t need your protection, and I’m not asking for your protection. And most times, life is pain, so good luck with that last part._ He followed after Dean obediently, knowing in his gut that if he refused, Dean would make him come even if he had to knock Sam unconscious and haul him over his shoulder.

_Knock you out? You are as dramatic as your Shakespeare._ Dean gave a mental chuckle and delved a little deeper into Sam’s mind, learning this was the first time Sam had been away from his country. It was wonderful, seeing the sights Sam had seen, through Sam’s fresh eyes. Then he saw an image of a male waiter, and slammed his mind shut. 

Sam straightened a little and paused in following Dean. “Well, that’s one way to get you out of my head. Thanks. Good to know. But he _was_ hot, even if he was straight as an arrow.”

Dean bristled, the air around him crackling. “I did not ask you his temperature.” He heard a sound and turned to look at Sam. “You’re hungry. We’ll go to the dining car first,” he said decisively. “Why didn’t you bring some food or get some?”

“Dude, you are so old world, do you even know what a computer is? Hot as in, you know, sexy. As for food, I was in a _rush_ because the train came early and I’m being stalked by some vamp--Carpathian warrior. I’ve got a couple energy bars in my backpack, but I’m used to being hungry when I’m focused on something, and I was focused on catching the connection to make it to the next connection, to get to the Romonsky Castle, the next stop on my tour.” Sam hadn’t really realized just how hungry he was until Dean had brought it up. He’d been dozing on and off since he’d gotten his seat.

“That waiter was short. And….” Dean made a gesture to indicate the man had been square, then made a face. “I understood what you were saying, I merely didn’t want to talk about it. After you.” He started to motion Sam into the first-class dining carriage but then realized how Sam was dressed. “Wait. You can’t go in looking like that.” Shielding Sam’s body, he let his gaze rove over him. When he stepped back, Sam was suitably dressed. 

“Square? You think he was _square?_ That’s 1950’s terminology. You’re not bolstering your case of being modern--What the hell?” Sam looked down at the suit he was now wearing. It was a dark blue silk suit that probably cost more than some cars. He had on black, expensive looking boots, and a tie that was white, spiderwebbed with black and red. “How did you do that? And that was one of my favorite t-shirts and flannels that you just magicked off of me, asshole.” 

“They would have thrown you out dressed like that. After you.” He allowed Sam to walk into the dining car. The tables were covered with tablecloths and fine china and silverware graced the tables. 

The maître d’ welcomed them and showed them to a secluded table. As they sat across from each other, Dean couldn’t help staring at Sam, taking in his features. His strong jaw and physique screamed of manhood, and yet the flop of hair falling over his eyes and the dimples gave him a boyish look. His eyes were dark and full of mysteries, as was his mind. Though Dean had taken several looks, it had gone frustratingly slow. The psychic connection they had should reveal all to him instantly, but instead he was reduced to peeling away layers. 

When the menus were brought to the table, Dean simply put his down and kept his focus on his lifemate. 

Sam flipped the menu open. He exhaled with some relief when he saw the menu was in both Romanian and Italian. He knew Italian. He could speak it a little bit, though he was better at speaking Spanish or German, but he could read it fairly well. His eyes widened when he saw the prices. He scanned for the cheapest items on the menu but even they were expensive. 

Sam looked up to see Dean staring at him. “In America, I think I could buy the whole sheep for what they want for the lamb chops,” he said quietly. He closed the menu. “I’ll stick with the energy bars. I’ll just take some espresso since you’re only awake during the night and no offense, but I’d rather not fall asleep with you around. You’re still looking at me like I’m the one on the menu and that sort of creeps me out.” Running his fingers through his hair he leaned back in the chair and stretched his too long legs out, trying to ease the way his pants bound his erection. He gave a big yawn, shaking his head to try to wake. This had to be a dream. People couldn’t really just wave their hands and make expensive suits appear while making other clothes disappear. He was probably still dozing in that not so comfortable chair in the economy section. “So tell me the difference between Carpathian Warriors and Vampires. My research says you’re one and the same.”

“I do not sleep all day. I was injured.” Dean answered, a little miffed. He could still feel the poison in his system, though he thought he had expelled most of it. His battle wounds were completely healed through. Once his prince returned to their lands and Dean gave him his report, he was sure Gregori, with his legendary healing powers, could draw out the rest of the poison. 

The waiter came over and Dean ordered two glasses of wine, a three-course meal for Sam, judiciously adding “an espresso” to the order.

“Yeah,” Sam mused with a nod, totally ignoring Dean’s all too triumphant look. “In the cave, the one you told me to run from. I don’t usually retreat unless I’m outgunned. It bothered me. Leaving you there. So what was it you were going up against that I couldn’t help with?”

“I know it did. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to chase you away. And you were very outgunned, as you say.” He closed his hand over Sam’s on the table and squeezed it. “Asking you to leave when I had only just found you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I was fighting vampires. More accurately, I had escaped them and was being hunted.”

Sam’s heart practically stopped when Dean’s hand covered his and his gaze went to Dean’s lips, thinking what it would be like to lean across and steal a kiss. He was so lost in the minor fantasy that he almost missed what Dean said. Blinking, he met Dean’s eyes. “Dean, I’ve hunted vampires before...” He grimaced. “...and, I didn’t have any blade long enough to take one out. Super strong, super-fast, but still, don’t expect me to just abandon you.” Sam suddenly snapped his mouth shut. _I’m acting like I’m going to stay with this guy!_ he scolded himself, though a part of him wondered if that would be so bad. He cleared his throat. “You still owe me the explanation of how Carpathians and vamps aren’t the same.”

“The things you’ve hunted in the new world are not vampires either. They’re made by vampires. They look human because they are mostly human. A true vampire is twisted and bears no resemblance to you or me. It has extra limbs, deadly limbs with sharp weapons.” He knew he hadn’t yet answered Sam’s question, but this was where it got complicated. 

He waited for the waiter to put the wine glasses down and leave the bread and butter on the table. “Carpathians are an ancient race. Far older than humans. We live... indefinitely. We live,” he repeated. “Our hearts pump blood through our veins and we can reproduce. We don’t kill humans, not unless we are hunted by them.”

Sam took a sip of the wine. He didn’t know shit about wine, but it tasted pretty good. He picked up a piece of bread, buttered it and bit into it. It was warm and fresh. After he chewed and swallowed he asked. “So you’re saying you’re immortal? How old are you? What do you eat? How many kids you got running amok? And who are Carpathians in human legend and lore?”

Dean smiled, glad Sam was showing interest. “I’m over two thousand years old and spare me the cradle robber jokes.” For a moment, he watched Sam devouring the bread. “I have no children. For eons, Carpathians mated only with Carpathians. Then something happened. Something, we cannot explain. Birth rates dropped, below replacement rate. Worse yet, hardly any females are born to our kind nowadays and the males who are born rarely survive past one year. We’re in crisis as a race because our males need lifemates to keep them grounded. With fewer females...” he waved his hand. “Without finding the light to their dark, there comes a time when a male has to choose. Either he will face the dawn, or he will turn into a vampire. Most of us choose to meet the sun. I have been on edge and close to making that decision for... I had planned to go that way soon. That is, until I heard your voice in my head. Before that, I had not seen color since I was two hundred years old. Along with losing the ability to see color, we lose our emotions as well. You saved me,” he said, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “I have heard that with the scarcity of Carpathian females, some of our males have been finding human lifemates who have psychic power. I never thought I’d find some--”

“You _do_ get that I’m a guy, I intend to stay a guy, and I’m not being anyone’s baby-momma. Don’t have the right equipment, so I’m not going to be able to help out on this whole road to extinction you’re on. And I’m so barely psychic, a cat probably has more mojo. I mean, sometimes I have dreams about people dying and sometimes those dreams come true. That’s it.” He stubbornly buried the details of his mother’s death and the things his father suspected. He didn’t want Dean to catch even a whiff of it. “And you skipped the whole food part. Blood?”

Dean gave a nod. “A few Carpathian warriors, those who have fought wars in remote corners of the world, occasionally, they have been known to find a lifemate of their own sex. This... it won’t help with our extinction issues, as you say, but it is a gift that no Carpathian could turn down.” 

Dean’s gaze inadvertently dropped to the side of Sam’s neck. He could see the network of veins and arteries under his skin, discern them, even though the human eye could not. “Blood,” he said, his voice thickening with desire for a taste of his mate. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably, seeing the way Dean’s eyes grew hungry and fastened onto his neck. “Yeah, I don’t do hickies. So keep your fangs to yourself.” He tilted his head, studying Dean a moment. “I assume you have fangs. Are they like ’my’ vampires, or Bram Stoker’s? Two fangs or a mouthful?” Yes, he definitely had to still be sitting in the chair dreaming because he was not sitting in an expensive dining car, drinking wine, and asking Hunkalicious what sort of fangs he had.

“You keep vampires? They make dangerous pets,” Dean said, understanding Sam clearly but trying to show he had a sense of humor, even if he didn’t find vampires particularly humorous. On the contrary, they were evil and deadly. “Come closer, and maybe I’ll show you,” he added, his voice dropping down an octave. 

Sam nearly inhaled his wine at Dean’s joke and spent a moment coughing. “That just shows you’re evil,” Sam said pointing a finger at him. After hesitating a moment, feeling that strange flutter back in his stomach, he gave Dean a long hard look. “No biting and maybe I will.”

Dean’s head tilted down a fraction, so he was looking up at Sam from under his brows. “No biting.” 

Sam leaned forward, setting his wine aside. “So show me,” he whispered, licking his lips. It wouldn’t take much for Dean to lean forward and kiss him.

“Don’t cut yourself,” Dean responded, huskily, slanting his mouth across Sam’s slightly parted lips. It was an invitation Dean could not resist. He invaded Sam’s mouth and swept his tongue across its roof, then brushed it alongside Sam's. He’d been waiting hundreds upon hundreds of years for Sam, and he wasn’t disappointed. Every fiber of his being was on fire from a simple, what he would consider chaste, kiss.

Quickly withdrawing his tongue before he went too far, Dean elongated his fangs, then softly sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth.

Sam had kissed his share of guys, and even a couple girls when he was younger and still experimenting, but kissing Dean, it was different, unique, like the tiny slice of heaven he had searched for all his life. His mind settled, finding a moment of silence and peace as their tongues gently tangled.

When Dean sucked his tongue into his mouth, Sam’s brow furrowed a moment as Dean’s tongue seemed to keep him from exploring at first. When Dean let him, and his tongue began to sweep around Dean’s mouth, he realized Dean’s canines were… canines. Long fangs, thinner than Sam had ever thought they’d be, and there were no other sharp teeth, not at all like the vampires he was familiar with. He carefully probed the teeth with his tongue, recalling Dean had warned him not to cut himself, so he made sure he didn’t. He finally broke off the kiss, his breath escaping his lungs in a rush. He couldn’t help himself and lightly took hold of Dean’s hand.

“This scares me,” Sam said softly. “How do I know what I’m feeling is real and not something you put in my head?”

Dean’s fingers curled around Sam’s hand. He took a few deep breaths, trying to bring his feelings under control. Maybe it was harder because he had been without real emotions for so very long. “You can merge your mind with mine. I cannot lie to you,” he answered, though he saw resistance and suspicion in Sam’s eyes. “You have dealt with things who lie and cheat. I understand why you ask these questions, even though your heart and soul tell you the truth.” Lifting Sam’s hand, he kissed the back of it. “Or we’ll do it the human way. I’ll prove it to you, day in and day out. So to speak.” He flashed his fangs for a fraction of a second, then hid them again.

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand back and gave a slight nod. “Let’s go with the human way for now. This goes against everything I was raised to believe. I made something like friends with a vampire once. Her family had stopped going after humans. They drank cow-blood. I saved her from a hunter and it made me realize that there’s a difference between supernatural and evil. I’m not sure my dad ever really got that. I’m not sure most hunters get that. But just because I recognize it doesn’t mean I’m ready to let it become more than that. We’re both playing with fire here and I don’t want either of us to get burned if we can avoid it. You good with that?” he asked hopefully, realizing his heart wanted him to try, to see if Dean was maybe supernatural but fell into the not evil category.

“Your food has arrived. Eat before your stomach has a fit,” Dean answered, just a heartbeat before the waiter arrived. He felt Sam’s eyes, looked into them, and could not look away. _Sam, we are destined for each other. It’s as simple as that. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care,_ he vowed, tightening the invisible bonds between them. 

Sam felt the color rise in his cheeks and didn’t look away until Dean had stopped his ornate prose. “You don’t strike me as the romantic type,” Sam murmured, slowly beginning to eat. He paused long enough to dig out the vacation packet he’d received. He was probably being stupid. Dean was sort of stalking him, and yet, Sam still just wanted to share. He pushed the paperwork across the table to Dean. “This is the trip I won. It’s for two, if you want to join me.”

Dean took the papers, glanced down at them, committing each destination to memory. “I will join you, but we will have to make some changes,” he said, then looked up at Sam. “Interesting. Each of the stops on your tour is famous for its wine or wineries, except Brasnov.” It shouldn’t really bother him, but something niggled at the back of Dean’s mind. Dammit, he could well understand why Sam was suspicious of everything, when Dean himself was dissecting the raffle win, his hunter’s instincts shouting at him to look deeper. 

“I guess the sponsors relatives are either in the wine business or live in areas where the wine is good,” Sam said with a shrug. “I don’t know anything about wine. I’m really sort of a beer kind of guy,” he admitted, but he sensed Dean’s unease. “What sort of changes? I mean, I know you can’t do some of the daytime tours. You can join me for dinner or breakfast maybe, and we can get to know each other better.”

“Some time changes, traveling method changes, some safety measures. If anyone were to find out about our bond, if a vampire were to find out, it would be dangerous.” Part of his reason for not immediately binding Sam to him was the fact he was being hunted and he had not yet fully figured out whether the poison remaining in his system would affect him adversely. If anything happened to him now, Sam would be hurt. It would be as if a part of him had been cut away, even if Sam did not realize that yet. But if it happened after they were fully bound by three exchanges of blood and the ancient words of his people, then it was unlikely Sam would want to live without him. And that was not what he wanted for Sam.

Sam chuckled. “I don’t generally have a say in the travel time and arrangements, but we’ll talk to them, let them know you’re joining me and are… averse to sunlight?” he said, making it a question. At Dean’s affirmative, Sam gave a slight sigh. “I can just give them alternative travel plans that fit with your schedule and hope they won’t charge a lot.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can catch up with you at each of your stops. And Brasnov is your last destination, how convenient. I … _we_ have a home there,” he said. By then, his prince and the others should be back. He could do his duty to his people, and then after Gregori made certain he was free of taint, he’d make Sam his lifemate . 

“We? You and who else?” Sam asked feeling jealousy flare wickedly in him. “I thought you weren’t married and didn’t have any kids.” Sam’s nostrils flared and his eyes grew dangerously dark. 

The possessive heat in Sam’s eyes made Dean’s heart tumble in his chest. “I love it when you look so fierce,” he whispered, leaning in, his breath caressing Sam’s cheek. “ _Out_ home. Mine, and _yours._ ” Just saying the words, envisioning them joined, woke the beast inside him. It clamored to make the words true now, raging at him for waiting, for putting it off instead of securing his mate here and now. 

“I just, I don’t like lies,” Sam said, fumbling to cover his jealousy and embarrassment, and the way Dean’s hot breath on his cheek made his heart race. “And Dean, look, after Romania, I want to see some of Europe before going back to the States. I want to see the Eiffel tower, and the Louvre, the Coliseum, the Palladium. The Vatican museum, Stonehenge, The Tower of London. And all the foods, and wines, and people; I want it all.” Almost hesitantly, he put his hand along Dean’s cheek. “I’ve never gotten to do what I wanted. I never got anything close. This is the first time I have even a tiny hope of getting a few months of just being me. If you want to join me, okay, we’ll see if it works, you and me. But don’t even pretend to try to steal it from me, Dean. Please. Deal?” Sam asked, realizing he was sort of committing to trying to have a relationship with Dean--with a _vampire._ And it scared him. But not to try? That scared him even worse because he felt like Dean was already worming his way into his heart and mind and he wasn’t sure he could leave Dean behind.

Dean turned his face into Sam’s palm and closed his eyes. He wanted so much, and he wanted it all now. Sam to agree to be his, to stay with him forever, to let go of his humanity and accept the life Dean could give him here, as a Carpathian. But above all, he wanted, needed his lifemate’s happiness. “You will see it all, and you will get used to _always_ doing what you want, whether it is to see the world, learn a hundred languages, or dabble in art. Whatever you want, you will have the time and the ability to do anything, and everything,” Dean promised. 

Lifting his face, he locked gazes with Sam. “I’m torn. Between kissing you and feeding you.” He didn’t have to say another word because Sam’s stomach loudly complained.

Sam tried to puzzle out Dean’s answer as a yes or no, but when their gazes met and his stomach growled, Sam gave a shrug, grinned, and began eating again.

* * * 

As they walked through the train to Dean’s private cabin, Dean continually stepped between Sam and others, shielding him from brushing against them. It was in his nature, and he didn’t fight it, even when he noticed Sam rolling his eyes at him.

They reached his cabin and he opened the door. It was a small but luxurious room, with a sofa that easily converted to a bed. “It’s warm in here,” he said, reaching for the coat hanger on the door with one hand, and unbuttoning Sam’s jacket with the other.

Sam looked down at those almost elegant fingers undoing his coat, then looked back up. “So what exactly do you do for a living? Do you travel a lot? Do you have to, uh,” Sam felt his face color a little, “keep dirt in a coffin? Crosses bother you? Garlic? Bats? How much did Stoker get right about you? And about--” he hesitated, then pushed on, “about Carpathians gone bad?” 

“Who is this Bram?” Dean growled. “One of your hunter friends?” He looked up as he helped Sam out of the tailored jacket and slipped it onto the hanger and hung it back up on the door. 

“Bram Stoker. He wrote Dracula, in 1897? Vlad Tepes, House of Draculesti, Prince of Wallachia, was supposedly a vampire? Surely you’ve heard of it?” Sam asked, finding it hard to accept he was standing in a first-class train car, in an expensive silk suit magicked onto him by a guy who was basically a good vampire, and they were talking about fictional vampires. It was beginning to make his head hurt.

“I try not to fill my head with nonsense. I’ve heard of Dracula,” he agreed, “Sleeping in coffins.” He gave a shudder. “Where does someone come up with a sick idea like that? I sleep in the ground, surrounded by nice warm healing soil.” 

“A coffin was probably just a way to convey he was undead and--” Sam’s voice just died off.

“And?” Dean raised a brow.

“What do you mean you sleep in the ground?” Sam asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“You ask a lot of questions. Questions that are hard to answer or complicated. Questions you could easily find answers to for yourself, if you’d just take a walk through my mind.” Lifting his hand, Dean stroked the side of Sam’s face. “Would that be so terrible? Brush my mind, Sam. Come to know me, like I’m coming to know you,” he said, leaning in, like he was going to kiss Sam, but bending his body a little as he searched for the lever on the couch behind Sam. 

The couch seat slid forward, the back sliding down, together forming a flat bed. Dean pushed Sam back, his eyes growing warm once Sam dropped down onto the edge of the bed. 

As Sam sat, though he hadn’t really intended to, a memory came unbidden into his mind.

_”You sure Sam? That’s the person you saw?” his father demanded._

_Sam nodded. “Yeah, he’s going to kill his wife, then...eat part of her.” He rubbed his temples as the headache inducing vision lingered. “He’s real strong, Dad. Stronger than you. You should have someone else helping, like Uncle Bobby or Pastor Jim.”_

_John’s lips pressed together. “And what am I going to tell them, Sammy? That you have visions of evil? That deal with demons? That sometimes those visions come true? They’ll start asking questions, questions we can’t afford to have them ask. You don’t tell hunters you’re psychic, not when you’ve got the sort of abilities you’ve got. Premonitions, sometimes telepathy, even a bit of telekinesis when you’re panicked? They’d potentially hunt you, Son. You know that.”_

_Sam looked down at his hands and nodded miserably. “I’m nine. I could hold a gun and help you...”_

Sam blinked back the memory and without looking at Dean shook his head. “No, I can’t, okay? I won’t.”

Dean immediately brushed Sam’s mind with his own, soothing him, taking the edge off the anxiety and fear he sensed. Then he started to probe, to dig deeper, to find the cause of his distress. _Your father--_ He was stunned when Sam’s mind suddenly closed to him. _What have you done?_ he asked, pushing a little harder. “Sam?” Gripping Sam’s jaw, he looked into his eyes. “Let me back in.”

Having formed the bond with Sam, being pushed completely out distressed Dean. His lifemate shouldn’t be able to do this, not to him.

“You don’t get to talk about my dad. You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened, you don’t understand, and you don’t get to see him through my memories and thoughts and think you can judge him, either. He did the best he could.” Sam stared defiantly at Dean and refused to lower his protections until Dean stopped trying to force his way in. 

“There should be no secrets between us. The memory, it hurts you. You hurt, I hurt. Let me understand,” Dean insisted, staring right back at Sam. “Let me make it better. ” 

“Human way, remember? I want it to be the human way between us right now. Where we ask each other questions and tell only what we’re ready to tell. And I told you, life _is_ pain for me, okay? You can’t make it better. You can’t change what’s already happened. The future?” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t get this whole lifemate thing but, and I don’t know why, I’m willing to try getting to know you better, maybe even… intimately,” he said running his hand lightly over the bed. “But it still scares the hell out of me. I’m scared. I’m scared you’ll turn me or something. I don’t want to be a thing.” Sam winced and corrected himself, “A Carpathian warrior. I just want to be me. If things work out between us, and I agree to it, does a month, or a year matter? It’ll give me time to come to terms with it on my own. Not forced into it.” He watched Dean closely to see how Dean was handling his answer. He wasn’t ready to lower his shields yet though.

“I’m sorry.” There was a long silence, though neither of them broke eye contact. “You do not have a choice in this. Neither of us do. Not unless you want to be miserable every day for the rest of your life.” A muscle throbbed in Dean’s jaw. They hadn’t exchanged blood yet, so Sam could walk away. Everything he had told him was true though. Except he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let Sam go.

A battle waged inside Dean. Everything in his nature, in his being, screamed for him to do it now, start the process. Do it, or … yeah, he’d been living on the edge for so long, it was possible he would start to turn. Which meant he would have to either make Sam his, or give his life up so he wouldn’t turn into a vampire. 

Running a hand through his hair, he put some distance between them and leaned against the door. “You don’t understand. You don’t _want_ to understand.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What part of ‘I don’t know why I’m even considering having a relationship with someone who isn’t human, someone who my dad would have hunted and tried to kill without a second thought’ did you miss? What part of ‘you scare the hell out of me, can we take it slowly’ didn’t you hear? No. I don’t understand what a lifemate is, why you are convinced I am your one and only, why--why you say you haven’t felt emotions or seen colors in centuries until you met me? I’m guessing that’s not a metaphor. I am not ready to crawl around inside anyone else’s brain yet, okay? On a scale of one to ten, my freak factor is about a twenty!” 

“I don’t know what a ‘freak factor’ is.” Dean frowned. “You’re a hunter, you’re a family of hunters and you think I’m one of the things you hunt. And yet you’re here. With me. Alone. In this small cabin. You know why that is?” he demanded.

Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Why do you think I’m freaked? I want to kiss you. I’m thinking I’d like to sleep with you. I’ve invited you to join me on my vacation even though I left the last town a day early because you scare me shitless. And it doesn’t make any sense to me! None of it!” Sam said getting to his feet. “I want to run from you, God help me, I do, but I… I can’t seem to. And that scares me even more than you scare me.”

Dean crossed the tiny room, put one arm around Sam’s waist and brought his mouth firmly down over Sam’s. He cupped the side of Sam’s neck with his free hand, his thumb sliding back and forth across his strong jawline as he gently, but aggressively sought entrance into Sam’s mouth.

The instant Sam opened for him, he curled his tongue around Sam’s, pulling him closer. Heat flared between them. Dean deepened the kiss, groaning at how right this felt. How every nerve in his body responded to his lifemate. _How can you be afraid of something this perfect? This... hot?_ he asked, trying to use the word Sam might use for this. 

_I’ve seen what seems so perfect turn out to be so very wrong._ Sam was silent a moment, savoring the feelings of peace this practical stranger seemed to give him. Yes, there was fire, but Dean was like a salve to Sam’s lonely and ravaged soul. Sam twisted his fingers in Dean’s soft shirt. He wanted to just rip it off. He wanted to see Dean’s bare chest, to run his hands over Dean’s muscles, to _feel_ him. _If I leave you, you’ll die, won’t you?_ he asked, having picked up snatches of thoughts from Dean now and again.

Dean’s hand roved possessively over Sam’s back, memorizing him, claiming him in. He couldn’t get enough of his taste. His scent. The way he clung to him, even though Dean knew Sam was doing his best to keep a distance between them. _Something like that. But I’m hoping you’ll see things my way._ He moved his hand lower, over Sam’s ass, squeezing his cheek. His senses started to reel. Need thrummed through him, rousing the beast inside. _Is this working?_

_I’m not complaining, am I?_

He’d maneuvered Sam back to the bed. Their lips parted as he started to push Sam onto the bed. Seeing the heat in Sam’s eyes sent his own lust spiraling. He ran his hand over the side of Sam’s face. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. I’ll do anything for you. To keep you free of pain. Anything,” he said, slowly following Sam onto the bed.

“You don’t like to give straight answers, do you? My father was like that. I always hated it when he’d answer me, but not answer the question I was asking,” Sam said. Staring into Dean’s eyes he found he couldn’t deny him, couldn’t say ‘no’ to him. He wanted him. “Do Carpathians believe in Heaven and Hell?” he asked quietly, running his fingers over Dean’s face. _Will this damn my soul if you turn me?_ he whispered in his mind.

“Some believe in it.” Dean closed his eyes as Sam’s fingers explored his face. Lowering the rest of the way down, he lay on his back, looking up at Sam. “I don’t know any Carpathian who believes his or her soul is damned for being what we were born. We are not the undead. If anything, vampires are damned, and we make it our business to send them to hell. Sound familiar?” he asked, trying to show Sam there were similarities between his kind and Sam’s, even if they were like night and day in many respects. “My turn to ask. Do humans get...” Finding the surface of Sam’s mind open to him, he searched for a modern phrase. “Blue balls?” 

Sam started to lean back, propping himself up on one elbow. He blinked in surprise at Dean’s question. A guy who’d been around for at least two thousand years, he didn’t figure would have a lot of generalized questions. “Yeah. Invented by teenagers. Perfected by married couples,” Sam said, chuckling a little. “I think that’s why men invented porn. Can you eat or drink anything other than blood? I know it doesn’t ease your hunger, but can you at least… drink sodas? Eat popcorn in the movie theater? Can you taste it and enjoy it? Or just the liquid diet?” he asked, letting his hand drift over Dean’s broad chest, feeling the pure muscle beneath the soft cloth. “And how hard do you have to work to keep muscles like this?”

“It was a hint more than a question.” Dean groaned at Sam’s lengthy answer, followed by another list of questions. Opening his eyes, he met Sam’s gaze. Reaching up, he ran his hand down the side of his face, to his neck and shoulder, pulling on him. “I can ingest food when I have to, but it makes me sick. Especially meat. Can we talk about something more pleasant? I have a few suggestions.”

Smirking, he shared what he was imagining. Limbs tangled together. Bodies writhing. Sam gasping for air as Dean’s mouth moved down his chest. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I retract one of my earlier statements. I think Carpathian men invented porn.” Even as Sam said it, Dean’s images were having an effect upon him. “Stop that. I’m trying to figure out what my life would be like with you. Now if you don’t think that’s a pleasant topic, I can head back to my seat right now….”

_Sometimes showing is better than talking about it,_ Dean responded, tugging on Sam again. Just because he stopped sharing his needs didn’t mean that he wasn’t yearning for Sam right now. His fingers curled around Sam’s arm. “It’s a very pleasant topic, but you make it difficult to concentrate. Kiss me.” He could have willed it. 

“You’re hopeless, I fear,” Sam said, but a smile tugged at his lips. Rolling partway onto Dean, he began to slowly kiss him, pulling back anytime Dean tried to take it over. _I’m supposed to kiss you. Lay there and enjoy it jerk,_ he scolded Dean lightly, nibbling on Dean’s lips until Dean opened his mouth and Sam slipped his tongue in. There were no fangs which sort of surprised him, but it just made him make his investigation that more thorough. _Is that the sort of kiss you had in mind?_


	3. Chapter 3

_It’s perfect. You’re perfect._ He tangled his tongue with Sam’s and ran his fingers through Sam’s silky soft hair. He wanted to take over. To roll Sam on his back, to kiss him hard, to undress him. He wanted to make the images in his mind come true, but by sheer will, he tempered his desire. 

Heat licked at him. Fire slowly spread through his body. Dean gripped the bed sheets with one hand, bunching them in his hand as he concentrated on only lightly stroking Sam’s back and letting him dictate where this went. It got harder by the moment, until he had to break away and sat up, his chest heaving as he took long lungfuls of air.

Sam watched as Dean struggled. He had felt the growing tension, seen the things going through Dean’s mind. Sensed the ‘beast,’ as Dean thought of it and felt the unintentional torment Sam was causing Dean. He licked his lips and stared at the floor for a moment. The toll this was taking on Dean was immense. He was walking a fine line, Sam could tell.

_It’s all or nothing, isn’t it? There’s no way to just enjoy each other’s company for a few days. You’re too close to going off the deep end._

_I’m doing my best._ A muscle throbbed in Dean’s jaw as he fought to regain his control. Seeing the look in Sam’s eyes, he raised his hand. “Sorry. For snapping. It’s... it’s just hard. When I know exactly... exactly how it is supposed to be, how it _could_ be, and it’s…. You’re right there,” he said, looking over at Sam. “And it would be so easy to just….” 

He got up and walked to the window, pried it open the quarter inch it would budge, and let the air in. _You can’t understand how much I need you, or how I love you already._

“I’m trying. I know you don’t think I am, but I’m not--” Sam switched over to telepathy. It seemed easier to convey his thoughts. _I’m not blind. I’m just trying to wrap my brain around how a complete stranger can connect so deeply with me in just moments. You’re like the bad boy parents warn their kids about._ Sam wanted to cross to him, to take him in his arms, but he knew Dean needed space.

Taking a deep breath, Sam gave a reluctant nod. _Tomorrow night. I’ll make the effort to look for answers in your mind, tomorrow night. Okay? I’ll try to figure out what I want to know, what I can live with, and what I can’t. Whether or not I can be what you need me to be. I guess I know I’m delaying the inevitable, but it has to be my choice, and I know you know that. You see that and sense it and I am really grateful for how very hard you’re trying. Would..._ Sam swallowed a little nervously, _...would it make it better or worse, easier or harder if you… you had some of my blood. I hear that voice inside you, clamoring for it. Needing it. Will it make waiting a little longer harder or easier?_

Dean wheeled around, a wild look entering his eyes. “I taste your blood and you will _never_ leave me,” he answered gruffly, his nostrils flaring. His gaze dropped to Sam’s throat. He could see his pulse so clearly, see the arteries and veins jumping under his skin. From his scent, he already knew just how Sam would taste on his lips. He could see in his mind, as clear as crystal, how Sam would cling to him, how dark and large his pupils would grow, how beautiful he’d be when he went into a state of ecstasy.

He felt his teeth extend and took a step, his back hitting the window. “We should talk about something else.”

Sam nodded, feeling guilty and ashamed and not really sure why. He didn’t want to hurt Dean. He wanted to protect him. Be protected by him. And he wanted to kiss him again, but that wasn’t something Dean could do right now, he was certain.

“What sort of things do you like to do? Surely you do something other than hunt? Read? Play games? Go to movies or plays? I don’t know. Grow orchids?” Sam asked, sitting back down on the bed, trying to give Dean all the space he could in the small room.

“I’ve done all those things, except movies. Yes.” As Dean gave a nod, he started to tense again, his eyes intently focused on Sam who was innocently stretching. In the process, his shirt was pulled to one side, revealing a sliver of skin where Dean had managed to unbutton his shirt. “But I’ve mostly kept away from people for the last...” Plagued by thoughts of sinking his teeth in right above Sam’s hip bone, Dean faltered.

“You’ve never seen movies?” Sam asked, trying to imagine some of the movies he’d seen and how it would be to see them for the very first time. “Have you watched TV?” he prodded. 

“No, not other than through the minds of others.” The strain wasn’t easing. Dean brushed Sam’s mind, trying to find closeness, trying to find the strength to fight his needs. 

Watching Dean and sensing he was still on the edge, Sam chewed his lower lip. “Okay, well, I don’t know if I’ll do it justice, but I could maybe try to distract you with the movie Star Wars. It’s really an awesome movie. Well, three movies.” Sam closed his eyes and pictured the yellow words scrolling up the screen and the music of the theme song. The little starship then the huge Imperial ship going after the Princess’ ship and her leaning over the little white and blue robot. He let the movie roll through his mind, certain he probably forgot a few scenes, and he tried to remember the best of the lines at least. He paused when they were getting ready to rescue the princess from her cell and opened his eyes to look at Dean. “Are you liking it, or bored with the story?”

“Who wouldn’t enjoy an epic tale of good versus evil?” Dean asked, opening his own eyes. _Go on. I like hearing your voice and catching your own interpretations of the movie. And learning what you find fascinating._ Having settled into a corner of the surface of Sam’s mind, Dean had found himself immersed in a story as old as time, told in a fresh new manner. “It’s a good distraction,” he admitted. 

Smiling broadly enough to show his dimples, Sam closed his eyes and tugged Dean deeper into his mind, and deeper into his memories of the movie. He kept him there, trying to show the amazing images he remembered seeing on the drive-in screen when he was just five. It had been a special showing of the movies at their tenth-year anniversary, and all three had been shown back-to-back. 

Sam mentally dragged Dean through the whole trilogy, until his mind finally fell quiet and he looked over at Dean. “I’ve watched the movies more times than I can count. That first one is pretty much my favorite if you couldn’t tell. Do you have a favorite play or opera or something?” He wished he could hold Dean’s hand right now but tried to be happy with just feeling his presence in his mind. So long as Dean wasn’t pushing or digging around in places he didn’t want, Dean could roam around in his mind if he wanted. 

Sensing Sam’s need for physical proximity, Dean pushed away from the window and slowly walked over to sit down next to him on the bed. He took Sam’s hand, but kept a tight leash on his own reactions. “Not in many years. It’s hard to have a real favorite when you can’t connect with anything emotionally. When I was young, yes, but nothing very current. I read a lot, to keep my mind busy, but it was just words on a page, concepts I believe in but could no longer _feel_.” Dean ran a hand over his own face. “Music. That’s something that I could... it was just out of reach, maybe a memory... but I could _almost_ feel it.”

“And now, because of me, you can connect again? You can feel again?” Sam asked, lightly squeezing Dean’s hand, trying to remind himself that Dean was either picking up his desires or his thoughts, even when they were just passing wishes. He gave a small smirk when he saw himself at some museum casually musing how much he would love to have some famous piece of artwork to hang in a house, and Dean just as casually pulling the piece off the wall and handing it to him. 

“You’ve given me back all the things that make life worth living,” Dean said with a nod. “It’s a gift no one else in the world could give me. No one.” He squeezed Sam’s hand as if he would never let it go. Just the thought could upset the beast, so he pushed it out of his mind, while he still was able. “You enjoy music. I saw you with your...” he dropped Sam’s hand and pointed his index fingers at his own ears. 

Sam gave a smile and nod. “My iPod. I think most people enjoy certain types of music. I like pretty much anything except for some of the screaming nonsensical crap. The kind of music I listen to sort of depends on what I’m doing at the time. My favorite is probab--” Sam’s words stopped as the blinding pain felt like it was going to split his skull open. He gripped his head with both hands and cried out. _His seat, where he’d been sitting on the train, a dark-haired man was sitting there, sleeping. Something tall, evil, was walking up the aisle to him. The formerly sleeping man rose, his eyes blank, and followed the stranger forward into a private compartment. Fangs flashing, vampiric teeth dug into the man’s neck._

“Sam!” Closing his arm around Sam, Dean immediately invaded deep into his mind and started sharing the vision Sam was experiencing. At the same time, he sent his senses searching, and once he was certain, he pulled Sam closer. “There’s nothing on the train. It’s just us. This, what just happened?” he asked, brushing the hair out of Sam’s face, and completely ignoring any resistance that Sam put up. 

Sam felt like he wanted to throw up, the headache was so intense. Without thought, his mind reached out and turned off the light switch. That helped his throbbing head some. He tried to push Dean away again, but Dean would have none of it, so he just collapsed against him, gasping, waiting for the pain to subside. “Premonition,” he whispered. “Strong… strong one. Like when a demon’s involved.”

It took precious seconds for Dean to learn Sam’s mind paths and then start to siphon his pain, absorbing it himself. Instinctively, he rubbed Sam’s temple and played the images back in his own mind, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening possessively around Sam. “What you saw, it’s not one of _your_ vampires. It’s one of our own. I can see through its glamour... its inhuman form.” He didn’t force the image it back on Sam. “It went straight to your seat.... How could it... why? No one can be aware of our bond, but what other reason…?”

The headache was draining away a lot faster than usual and Sam found himself breathing a little easier. “I dunno. ‘My’ type vamps, once they have a scent, they never forget it. You said you were being hunted. Maybe they just followed the trail. Picked up my scent, figured out you were in the same bar that I had been in, in town. Then I bailed early from town, giving some lame excuse about allergies and wanting to get away from the woods. Maybe they think I know something about you? Would that be something they might do? Is that their type of logic?”

“No. Not unless you told someone something. Did you? Even someone you trust. Did you say anything to anyone?” Dean demanded. He knew he hadn’t been followed. If anyone had made a connection between them, it had to be from something they’d heard.

“I was doing research on Carpathians and vampires,” Sam said, rubbing his eyes, waiting impatiently for the rest of his headache to fade. “I emailed some hunters. They told me about the civil war going on and that Carpathians and vampires were the same thing. I just told them I was visiting the area and heard the locals talk, saw the crosses and garlic and stuff hanging on their doors. Told them I just wanted to add to my journal while I was in the area. I emailed Bobby asking about supernatural things that were telepathic, and… uhm, more handsome--” _hunkalicious as hell_ “--than anyone could possibly really be. I didn’t know anything about Carpathians when I sent him that email, but Bobby, he’s family. He wouldn’t endanger me.”

Dean smiled at the hunk comment, but his tone was serious. “Many hunters don’t distinguish between good and bad. Some are more evil than the things they hunt. You trust this Bobby, and I will, too. But he could have said something in his own inquiries.” It was a possibility, but he wasn’t convinced. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said, his promise edged in steel.

Releasing Sam, he stood up and walked to the window. “I’ll know before it gets here.” He turned around. “When the time comes, you will stay here, and I will trade places with the hapless man who took your seat.”

“How are your type of vampires killed?” Sam asked instead of arguing with Dean. He got up and turned the light back on wondering when Dean had shut it off. He’d appreciated it. His head had, at any rate.

“It’s very messy.” Dean gave a dark grin. “Sometimes beheading them is enough if they’re newly undead. If you’re dealing with a master vampire, then you can’t leave much of it intact. Their blood is tainted, like acid. You burn or obliterate their remains.” His gaze followed Sam, who seemed restless now, not that Dean could blame him. “If you’re ever faced with one, don’t look into its eyes. They often use compulsion on humans to make them do their bidding, or to see through their eyes.”

“Then you’re getting me a machete and I’m going to be in that train car with you, for backup. I’ll sit wherever you want me to sit, I can wear a hoodie and have it pulled up over my face. I won’t draw attention to myself, I won’t interfere unless you get in a bind. But you’re not doing this alone,” Sam said firmly. He met Dean’s gaze head on, just daring him to try to make him stay.

“No.” The single word erupted from Dean. His gaze clashed with Sam’s, his lips tightening when faced with the unusual situation of a human not sensing his mood and backing down. “It’s impossible,” he finally added, his voice barely a whisper. “I cannot risk you, Sam.”

“And I can risk you?” Sam snapped back. “And what happens if there’s more than one vampire? And when they don’t find me in that seat, they find you instead, what’s to stop them from coming here? From snagging me just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “If I’m in the same car as you, you can know I’m safe, and I can know you’re safe, and we’ll both be happy.” Sam crossed his arms and jutted his chin out. “I’m coming. Wouldn’t you rather it be on your terms instead of mine?”

Dean strode across the small room and grabbed Sam, bringing his own face close as he spoke. “I will deal with them, whether there is one or more. You want to know what is happening, fine. I will tell you. Or you can watch from inside my mind. But I don’t want you anywhere near any vampire. Not until--” He’d been about to say, he’d consider it once Sam turned and he’d had the opportunity to train him. 

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and kissed him, working on kissing him senseless. _If you ever want another one of these kisses, I’m coming. Trust me, you can’t out-stubborn a Winchester._

The argument Dean had expected never came. Instead, he found himself engulfed in the heat of sudden desire. _You do not fight fair,_ he managed, tugging Sam up harder against his raging arousal and kissing him back with a fierceness he’d hidden from Sam. Fear for Sam, anger at his defiance, love for his loyalty, all warred within Dean and this was his only outlet.

Two steps had Sam’s back up against the window. _I could command you to stay._ The beast within urged him to do just that, to keep his lifemate out of the way of harm.

_Yeah. You could try. Would not be the smartest thing to do,_ Sam said, his own pent up arousal from being around Dean, from Dean’s aggression, from the electric charge between them had him clawing at Dean’s shirt and kissing him back just as hard.

_Why do you push me to compel you?_ Dean demanded, driving his knee between Sam’s legs and pulling Sam’s face to one side as he kissed him again and again, barely giving him enough time to catch his breath. 

_Don’t try it,_ Sam warned even as he felt a few of the buttons of Dean’s shirt pop off. He tugged Dean’s shirt out from being tucked in and slid both hands under, feeling the warm flesh against his hands and groaning as he pressed against the thigh between his legs. He offered his own thigh for pressure for Dean’s hard erection.

Fire raged inside Dean. He gripped Sam’s wrist and slammed it against the wall in lifted his head. “Why not? Why Sam? Do you think having you angry with me is worse than seeing you hurt? Or dead?” His eyes were dark with passion. Hearing another button tumble to the ground, he made both of their shirts disintegrate.

The thought of losing Dean, like he had lost all the others, ripped open the old wounds that had never healed. They hadn’t healed because he knew it was his fault, always his fault that they had died. Dean dying because of him opened the floodgates of his pain and everything was fresh, like it had all just happened yesterday. “My mother died trying to protect me. My father died trying to protect me. My boyfriend in college was murdered and I wasn’t there to save him. No! I will not sit by and let you die, too! I won’t! I _can’t!_ ” Sam yelled, tears streaming down his face. 

Dean was even less prepared for the eruption of pain emanating from Sam and the wet tears that he felt against his face. “Sam.” Stopping himself from tossing Sam onto the bed to finish what they’d started was the hardest thing Dean had done in a long time. Despite the pressures of his body, of the intense drives that were hardwired into Carpathians, and the beast’s demands that he take Sam now, and show him his place... to compel him to remain safe, Dean managed to pull away. Slightly.

Taking deep breaths, and still gripping Sam tightly, he repeated his name. “Sam, listen to me. I am not.... I am not human, I’ve lived over two thousand years. I will not _die_ , not when I have you to live for,” he promised. “But you, you’re human. I cannot bear to lose you. I must keep you safe, don’t you understand?” His eyes tracked Sam’s tears and Dean knew he was in trouble.

“And I’ve been a hunter since I was strong enough to hold a two-shot derringer. I backed up my father for years. When I was just a kid, I stayed hidden. I never got involved unless I absolutely had to, especially since Dad usually ordered me to stay in the car. When he would leave me at the motel, those were always the worst hours of my life. Never knowing if he was ever coming back, if the monster got him and I was completely alone.”

Sam stared at him. “I understand but I won’t be a china doll to be protected. I’m a hunter. It’s the only thing left for me. And I won’t let you take that away from me because _you’re_ afraid. If you force me to stay, I’ll try to find a way to break out. I’ll draw attention. You let me come, and no one will be the wiser. I’m good at quiet, at no one noticing me, when I want to be. Have faith in me, Dean.”

“I know why you are _my_ match... it’s because you are fierce. Right here,” he touched his fisted hand to Sam’s chest, right over his heart. “The only Carpathians who find lifemates of their own sex are those who fight on the front lines. And you’re the _first_ male human to be paired with a Carpathian warrior. So believe me, I _have_ faith in you. And when your body is strong enough to match the fierceness in your heart, you will be the first to be out there,” Dean pointed to the door, “with me, fighting evil, my partner in every way. But don’t... don’t blackmail me now, when you’re still human, when your light can be extinguished so easily. Don’t do this to me,” he ended on a plea.

Sam stared at him for a long moment, then turned and walked to the bed. After wiping away his tears, he laid down on it on his stomach, his elbows folded and his chin resting on them. “Go. Just go away then,” he told Dean flatly without ever looking at him.

“Sam….” Letting out a deep sigh, Dean walked to the window and stood there for a long moment. The cool air on his bare skin reminded him that he’d partially unclothed them. With a thought, he changed both of them into comfortable jeans and tee shirts. There was no point in leaving just yet, he would know when a vampire was within the vicinity.

As the minutes ticked by, he stared at Sam. When he wouldn’t speak at all, he brushed his mind, but found everything below the very surface completely closed to him. Needing the closeness, he tried again. Sam shouldn’t be able to lock him out, he wouldn’t be able to if he’d been a Carpathian lifemate. With humans, the rules sometimes changed.

Running a hand over his face, Dean tried to think about other things, but the room was small. His entire focus was on Sam. He couldn’t bear his unhappiness and the deep sorrow etched on his face. Once more, he brushed Sam’s mind. “Let me in. Please.” He willed Sam to meet his gaze. “Don’t punish me for loving you.”

Sam gave a soft huff of irritation but refused to look at him. He did finally lower some of his shields, letting Dean in. “‘Please’ gets you permission,” he mumbled. It was something Pastor Jim used to say to him when he was being particularly rebellious against his father or any authority figure. 

Dean’s story was the same as it had always been for Sam. That’s what _they_ always told him. When he was older. When he was more accurate at shooting a gun, or a crossbow, or wielding a knife. When he was taller. When he was stronger. When he was smarter. When he was better. And that ‘when’ never came. They always died first. Always. Winchester luck sucked ass, and there was no reason to think it was going to change now.

Dean broke the silence, a perplexed look on his face. “Sucks ass?”

Sam twisted his head and looked at the Carpathian. The look on his face was priceless and Sam couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “It’s a colorful euphemism for saying no matter what a Winchester does, it always turns to shit in the end. Always.” After glancing over Dean in his nice t-shirt and jeans, he looked away, putting his chin back on his arms.

“Huh.” Dean would have added more, but Sam was back to acting distinctly disinterested. After a while, he couldn’t take the silence. _One minute you’re tearing at my clothes, the next you’re giving me the cold shoulder. And here I thought Carpathians were temperamental._

“I’m too fragile. I break too easily. I’m just human after all. I’m sure sex with you is far too dangerous as well. Best we not try it. When we get to _your_ home you can lock me up in the cupboard and take me out to play with when you have adequately bubble wrapped the rooms for my own safety. That’s okay. I’m used to that treatment. Been the story of my life.” 

“Do you only listen to half of what I say?” Dean demanded. 

More time ticked by. There was more silence, more strain between them. Dean knew he ought to be able to shut everything off, do what was needed, and then repair the damage later. But somehow he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Alright!” Dean exclaimed. “But if you die on me, so help me, Sam Winchester, I will hunt your ghost down and kill you again,” he growled, unhappy with his decision, but knowing he would be unhappy either way.

Sam twisted his head and looked at Dean, then broke into a grin. Pushing off of the bed he practically threw himself into Dean’s arms and kissed him hard. _I won’t die on you. You don’t die on me, either. I don’t think… No, I know I couldn’t deal with that. And I’ll be like a mouse. Totally annoying, stealing your food, and antagonizing the big, bad cat every chance I get._

_You already are. A mouse. A very fierce mouse._ Closing his arms around Sam, Dean added. _I have seen your cartoons. You are like that Jerry-mouse, and I think this cat is in trouble._ It was nothing short of a miracle that he could laugh about this when he’d just been manipulated into agreeing to something that went so against his nature. 

_Don’t forget I need a machete. I promise I won’t use it on your tail. I have other ideas for that part of your anatomy._

* * * 

Sam strapped on the machete, making certain it was well-concealed. He pulled out a hoodie from his backpack and slipped into it. Sam refused to do more than hold Dean’s hand and talk because he wasn’t about to be in the middle of something more only to have it interrupted by the vampire. The vision he’d had very clearly occurred on this train and it would have to happen before the dawn. They could have five hours or five minutes before they needed to take their places. Sam badgered Dean with questions and kept Dean out of the depths of his mind, reminding him that they were doing this the human way which meant answering questions. Besides, at some level Sam knew it annoyed Dean and, he had to admit, at some level he enjoyed annoying Dean.

Of course, learning that Dean had been alive not just for a few hundred years, but rather for a few thousand years, Sam badgered him about historical places and people and was rather disappointed that it wasn’t like a Hollywood movie; just because he’d been alive during the time of Cleopatra didn’t mean he had met the woman. Or Julius Caesar. Or King Arthur. Or even Robin Hood. It was all a bit disappointing. Sam knew that it was impossible to know who would be remembered in the history books and who would not. Who would evolve into legend and myth, and whose life would disappear without so much as a grave to even mark their life or death. Still, it was a cool idea to think Dean was alive during those times. And when he learned Dean had visited the museum of Alexandria, including the famous library, the questions wouldn’t stop spilling from him even though Dean had few answers beyond the recollections of two or three visits there when he’d been young.

Sam actually drifted off once or twice to the sound of Dean’s voice, but if Dean moved, Sam was instantly awake. Too many years as a hunter and being an exceptionally light sleeper, Sam told him. After a bit of espresso, Sam insisted they go ahead and position themselves to be ready for the vampire, in case the vampire moved faster than expected. They didn’t want the car of people stirred up from Dean moving the guy in Sam’s seat, and Sam would need to find a place out of the way so as not to be noticed.

*

Dean’s expression was stony as they entered the car. He had tried several times to get Sam to change his mind, but all he learned was that it would be easier for him to move a mountain, than Sam. _Most lifemates are far more obedient._

His gaze moved over all the seats and he nodded to an empty place where Sam would have a good view but would not be too close to the action. He hoped.

_Yeah, obedience never was my strong suit. Will you stop worrying? I’m not going to make my presence known if at all possible, but if things go FUBAR on you, I’m here to cover your ass. From what you’ve said, I know these sorts of vamps are out of my league unless there’s no other choice. And yeah, that’s a good spot. Not too close, not too far._ Giving Dean a smirk, he sat in the empty seat, slid down in it, and pulled his hoodie up to cover a good portion of his face. He leaned to the side, making it look like he was long comfortably asleep, only adjusting his angle a couple times to make sure he had a decent view. It wasn’t as clear as he might like, but if he was going to remain “out of view” it was the best he was going to have. _Be careful,_ he told Dean before he cloaked his mind to everything and everyone except for a tenuous connection he kept with Dean.

_It’s like the blade of grass telling the horse not to get trampled._ Dean gave a mental eye roll and slowly proceeded to Sam’s reserved seat. He loomed silently over the man in the seat right next to the empty one and locked gazes with him when the man looked up. A split second later, the man picked up his bags and moved across the aisle.

Dean sat down and looked out the window. It was pitch dark outside, but he could see clearly, every passing tree, every leaf on the trees. The only thing that struck him as strange and wonderful was that he could now see their colors.

_You know, I did some horseback riding now and again and I’ve seen wet grass take down a horse and rider. It only takes one moment, one miscalculation. And if you don’t start having more faith in me, I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of,_ Sam threatened him. He was not some pansy-ass, starry-eyed teen with delusions of the world and he was getting a little annoyed at being thought of as such. 

_Draw your claws in, Fierce One. Clearly you’ve won this round since you’re here and not in a deep sleep in the safety of our room._ Dean started sharing with Sam the sights he was seeing out in the wild, untouched areas they were passing. 

Sam gave a soft snort. His attention though was almost immediately diverted by the things Dean was showing him. To be able to see so clearly at night, as if it were daylight, which explained why vampires--why Carpathians didn’t like to be up during the day. If they could see that well at night, the sun was likely extremely painful. Another part of his mind told him to just shut up and enjoy the view. At least until he felt the distant brush of darkness approaching. It sent chills straight through him. _Dean, do you--_

Dean continued staring outside, sensing the dark ripples and trying to put a shape to them. _It’s circling above the train,_ he said eventually. Concentrating, he cast a bubble around himself, hiding his true nature. Of course if the vampire was after Sam because they’d connected Sam to himself, then the vampire would be prodding and seeking too, looking for cracks in any illusions.

The sound of ruffling feathers thundered in Dean’s ears. He tensed. _It is entering from a hatch on the roof, behind me. Look in that direction, but not in his face. Let me in your mind,_ he demanded.

Sam shifted a couple times like he was sleeping restlessly, turning his head, his eyes scanning for reflections in the train car before letting his gaze drift further. He carefully opened his mind to Dean and Dean only.

Sam spotted a reflection in the glass but it was cloudy and unclear. Still it gave him a point of reference for the height of the creature and he made sure to keep his eyes low enough to not meet the vampire’s gaze. The evil he felt in the train car was almost enough to make him want to hurl. _You seeing it okay?_ he mentally whispered, hoping he was giving Dean the view he needed.

_Yeah._ A tall, normal looking man was slowly walking down the aisle toward him. _Don’t react, I’m going to show you what it really looks like,_ Dean said, brushing Sam’s mind to be certain there was no building panic. Watching the man through Sam, he pierced right through the vampire’s glamour, and revealed a creature with maggot-eaten features, and extra limbs that looked like a spider’s legs protruding unnaturally from its back and side.

Dean brushed Sam’s mind once more, and found he was still calm. _Color me impressed,_ he said, this time using a phrase Sam had used less than half an hour ago.

_I’ve seen worse, though the spider legs are kinda different,_ Sam said. He had to close his eyes when he saw the shift of shoulders, and the shift of the vampire’s weight. He knew the vampire was scanning over the passengers. Sam let his head fall forward a little more. After a five count, he cracked his eyelids and refocused on the creature heading slowly but steadily for Dean. _The uglier they are, the meaner they are. And that dude is fugly. Be careful._

_Have some faith in me._ Amusement tinged Dean’s voice but he sobered when the vampire was close. He waited for it to either slip into the seat next to him or put its face in his before trying to bite him, the way it had in Sam’s premonition. Instead, it faltered.

_It knows._ Dean immediately got up and started to head for the vampire, who stumbled back, clearly surprised.

“Where is he?” The vampire snarled, still retreating, but searching every corner of the train. “How did you know?”

“Talk. Outside.”

The vampire made a snapping sound, and several passengers suddenly grabbed their throats, their eyes bulging from the pressure of being choked. A body flew through the air toward Dean.

Dean caught the man and set him down but continued to advance.

“I’ll kill them all,” the vampire threatened.

Shrugging, Dean took another slow step toward the vampire, then he started to run towards it. The air around them crackled. 

The vampire took control over several people, and suddenly they were pulling out dinner forks, knives, and someone raised a golf club. As if in a mad frenzy, they started to attack Dean.

When Dean easily avoided their weapons, or tossed the people aside, the vampire changed tactics. Those it controlled suddenly started to butcher the rest of the passengers. 

_Keep out of the fray_ Dean commanded Sam, glancing at a window. It broke into several pieces, and a large piece sailed through the air, straight toward the vampire’s throat.

Sam, fearing his height would give him away as the one the vampire was looking for, stayed low as he rolled out of his seat to avoid a butter knife a passenger jabbed at his chest. With two blows he disarmed the guy and kicked the knife under the seat. When the guy leaned over, blindly hunting for his weapon, Sam practically rolled his eyes and planted his elbow sharply in the back of the guy’s head, knocking him out. He stuck his leg out, tripping a woman running headlong down the aisle with a fork, screaming.

With Dean distracting the vampire, Sam knew he had a real good chance of getting behind the vamp and decapitating it, but if the vamp sensed him and bolted, or hell, reached out with its clawed limbs Sam couldn’t really see… no, Dean would kill him if the vampire didn’t. He stayed more focused on not ending up with silverware or broken glass or a tennis racket swung at him and did what he could to disrupt attacks of the passengers on each other. After all, it was his fault this was happening. The vampire wanted him.

Right before the glass reached the vampire, Dean had to deflect it because the vamp grabbed a passenger and used her as a shield. Then it threw her at Dean and jumped up and climbed out the hatch.

_Be safe._ Looking up, Dean jumped up, right through the hatch, and landed on the roof of the train. The wind blew at his back, but he kept his balance. The vampire had jumped to the next car and was watching him, its eyes coal black.

As Dean walked toward it, he sent his senses out. “Alone. They sent a fledgling after me, alone? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” A lightning bolt zig-zagged across the skies as he gathered his energy.

“I’m not afraid of you. You’re dead. All of your kind are dead,” the vampire rumbled.

It looked a little wary, but it was still acting cocky.

“We’ll see,” Dean said, lifting his arm. The air swirled around him, ice formed into a lump, and then into a sharp-edged lance. With one motion of his arm, the lance hurtled through the air toward the vampire’s heart, with Dean chasing right behind it.

The lance tore a large hole in the vampire’s chest cavity, but it didn’t take the fight out of the creature. Soon, it was clawing at Dean, stabbing at him with its razor-sharp claws and extra limbs. Dean evaded its limbs, moving his body back and forth, jumping out of the way, then moving back in. 

Sudden sharp pain tore across his stomach. “Sonovabitch!” he shouted, tainted acid from the vampire burning into his cut. Thunderclouds gathered overhead, and the next time he swept his arms out, ice encased the vampire, holding it in place just long enough for Dean to get behind it in a headlock. “Say goodbye.”

He twisted its head, breaking its neck so it hung limply. Dean wasn’t fooled and called up more ice, forming it into a sword. “What were you looking for?” he demanded.

The vampire forced its eyes open, and all Dean could see was malevolence flickering across its dark irises. 

“Don’t know?” The thing mocked Dean with its dark laugh.

“Fine.” Dean chopped it’s head off and kicked it off the roof of the train. Then he called up the energy around him, and obliterated the rest of its remains with a lightning strike that marred the roof. The wind whipped the vampire’s ashes into a flurry, scattering it over the countryside.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam cursed that he couldn’t follow Dean up onto the roof of the moving train. The best thing he could do was help the befuddled passengers who were injured or holding weapons with no idea why. Sam quickly looked up Romanian names for ‘thieves and bandits’ on his phone “Banditi!!” he said, waving toward the largely unoccupied dining car.

A minute later Sam felt the pain rip into Dean’s gut almost as if it were his own and he stood up, ready to try to get up on the roof. But the wound wasn’t deadly. Not for Dean, anyhow. He knew that and forced himself to stay focused on helping the passengers. 

He didn’t how much time passed or how long he held his breath, but Sam sensed the moment the malevolence of the vampire was gone. He wasn’t the only one. The people in the train seemed to release a breath they’d all been holding.

_Don’t know what the smell of blood will do to you, but there’s lots of it down here. Only a couple people were seriously injured. Are you okay?_ Sam asked as he tied off another bandage, smiling gently at the old woman before moving on to see who else needed help. 

_You were in my mind_ Dean said smugly. _Make some noise, create a distraction._

Sam let himself catch his foot on a seat and gave a loud curse as he nearly ‘fell,’ easily catching himself, but drawing eyes to him. He sensed Dean was now in the car with him. _Let’s get you to our room. I’ve pretty much done what I can here. And see, I stayed out of the way and in one piece. I’m not an idget._

_Yeah._ Dean’s gaze dropped to Sam’s forearm. His nostrils flared slightly seeing a man had his hand on Sam. _Shrug him off._ he ordered, his eyes going dangerously dark. _Now._

_Take a deep breath, Jealous._ Sam gave a smile and nod to the man who had merely reached out to keep Sam from falling on his face. Sam gave him a thank you then looked back at Dean and saw the blood. The muscles in his jaw tightened. He straightened, walked back to Dean and grabbed his hand. “You’re next. Now,” he said, leading him through the car and heading back to their cabin in first class.

Dean took a double take when Sam practically echoed his tone. _You do care,_ he said, a smile in his voice. _Don’t worry, it’s a scratch. It will heal before we’re back in our room._

_Right. I’ll believe that when I see it,_ Sam said, having heard a similar line from his father and other hunters. All had to be macho idiots.

As soon as they reached the privacy of the small room, Sam practically ripped Dean’s blood-soaked shirt open. “Yeah, looks all healed up to me. Not. Asshole. Sit. I’ll get out my first aid kit.”

“Did you call me ‘asshole’?” Dean frowned. “There have got to be some better modern terms of endearment.” Pulling the shirt off, he wiped it across his stomach, paused at the sight of his unhealed wound and sat down. “Don’t, I’ll heal myself,” he said, concentrating harder and harder, and seeing no result. “It’s a simple wound. I should be able--”

“Vamps have those extra spider-like legs. Are they poisonous? Do you feel lightheaded?” Sam asked. “And maybe I’m still trying out the ‘term of endearment’ that fits you best. Jerk. Asshole. ...Hunkalicious. And _don’t_ go getting smug on me about it,” he scolded Dean as he brought over his small first aid kit. He’d brought it along in case he decided to do some long hikes. “Lay back. I got this,” he told him, pouring some water onto a washcloth he had in his pack.

“They have acid, it goes into wounds, burns.” Dean nodded. “This is something else. I think it has something to do with the poison that...” As Sam’s hand moved over his bare stomach, his fingers sometimes slipping off the washcloth and sliding against his bare skin, Dean lost his train of thought.

He barely felt any pain, not even when Sam poured alcohol over his wound. But he was plagued by a variety of other feelings. His skin felt tight, his muscles tensed. In his mind's eye, he imagined Sam exploring his chest, and then slowly laying over him, kissing him. His gaze somehow focused on Sam’s throat, and it almost pained him to pull it away. 

Seemingly oblivious, Sam started putting the bandaging on. Dean just stared at him, all of his longing in his eyes. 

Sam felt the way Dean looked at him, watched him. He saw the ripple of Dean’s muscles beneath his touch. “Poison from where?” Sam prodded, tying off the last of the bandages. “And when do you need to be headed to wherever you go in the daytime?”

“I was, for a time, held prisoner. A lab rat. People-- they’re developing a poison that works on Carpathians. They’ve been working on it for decades, but now, now it works. The day you and I _met,_ I’d escaped and was being chased.” He licked his lips, then put his hand out, cupping Sam’s head and drawing him close. “Any chance the sight of blood gets you hot?”

“That’s gotta be the worst vampire pick up line I’ve ever heard. Carpathian too,” Sam said, laughing and giving a small shake of his head. “You. Just looking at you gets me hot,” Sam said, his hand going to Dean’s jaw and his thumb running over Dean’s lips. “So tell me how long we have before you need to turn into a bat and fly away or something,” he asked, his voice growing husky as he stared into those beautiful green eyes he just wanted to fall into.

“We have a few hours to kill,” Dean whispered, his voice growing raspy. “You can look at me all you want. I’m all yours. You can touch me. Kiss me.” He grabbed a handful of the front of Sam’s tee shirt, “or let me kiss you.” Dean wanted more. So much more. But he told himself he could keep his control and go half-way for a few days.

“Anything I do is gonna be cruel and unusual punishment for you, driving you crazy, and we both know it. Last time you had to put distance between us and I had to distract you with Star Wars, remember?” Sam said, letting his hand slide back along Dean’s ear, his fingers slipping through Dean’s hair. “You’re, ah, scaring me less, for what that’s worth. Trying so hard to give me a chance to wrap my brain around all this. Thank you.” Taking a deep breath he gave the barest of nods. “You can kiss me. You can, you know, check me out. And tomorrow night I’ll… I’ll get inside your head to get some of my questions answered.” Seeing Dean’s look, Sam broke into a grin. “Okay, shutting up now. Kiss me.”

“Making me wait is cruel and unusual punishment.” Bringing his mouth down hard over Sam’s, Dean added, _I had to try._ He pulled Sam over him. _I don’t give a damn about the pain,_ he said, cutting off Sam’s protests about injuring him, then he rolled them over, so he was looking down into Sam’s face.

He inspected every inch, his gaze lingering over Sam’s lips, and repeatedly seeking out Sam’s eyes. _I know you’re afraid. And that you want to wait. But you have to know, you’re mine, Sam Winchester. Only mine._

“Can you imagine what it’s like, taught to hate and kill anything supernatural and then to find out that--that you’re a soul mate to one and that you have to change into something supernatural because half a soul can’t live?” Sam ran his hands up and down Dean’s sides. “And yeah, I feel the bond between us getting stronger. Every time you’re in my head, it makes it stronger. And when I get into your head tomorrow night… I kinda figure it’ll seal my fate, that I can’t try to run anymore. And I don’t know how to feel about that other than… scared. So kiss me and make me forget that tomorrow’s my last day where my life is still in my hands. Show me what it’ll be like being in your hands instead.” 

Sam had capitulated. He’d bought himself a little time, but he had admitted he belonged to him. As he brought his mouth down over Sam’s once more, Dean shared his feelings. The depth of his love, his desire, his bond, and all the ways he needed Sam... needed to own him, body and soul. Heat scorched every inch of Dean’s body, where he touched Sam. _Every day, every night, I will give you anything you want, anything you can imagine._ He pushed images into Sam’s mind, of places that existed, and places he could create. Oases, deep in the caverns in the mountains. Steaming hot pools to make love in, beautiful forests surrounding them, places that would belong to only them.

_I don’t need much. A comfortable bed without bugs to sleep in. A decent jacket if it’s cold. A good cup of coffee in the morning,_ Sam thought back to him. _I’m kinda low maintenance. Except you don’t get to own me. I do what I want, when I want, where I want. But no one else gets to see me naked or grope me but you. Okay?_

_Not really._ Dean tangled his tongue with Sam’s and shifted slightly off and brazenly ran his hand up from Sam’s thigh over his cock, cupping it like he owned it, like he owned Sam. As he felt Sam harden under his palm, fire licked at him, racing through his veins and pooling low in his gut. He squeezed Sam, and deepened the kiss, trying to snuff out denial with seduction.

Sam had already proven he could make Dean back down so he wasn’t terribly worried, but he didn’t want a daily fight. He was about to say as much when Dean cupped him, squeezed him, and kissed him with more heat than any kiss he could recall. He was pretty much seeing stars and pre-cum already dampened his undershorts. _But you’re hurt..._ Sam managed to string together in his mind, grateful he didn’t have to talk because he wasn’t sure he could have even if Dean broke their kiss long enough for Sam to say something.

_I hurt for you,_ Dean corrected, moving his mouth down over Sam’s throat, scraping his teeth against delicate skin, then soothing it with kisses. He moved his other hand up, cupping Sam’s face as he moved his mouth lower, kissing his chest over his tee shirt. Hearing the rush of Sam’s blood, he closed his eyes tightly, concentrating instead on his lifemate’s intoxicating scent.

Sam couldn’t help arching a little at the feel of Dean’s teeth at his throat, his own breath caught in his chest. He had always, _always_ loved getting hickies. He wanted to tell Dean he could bite, but… no, just one more day. One more. Even as he was thinking that, different words were spilling out of his mouth. “Will my blood heal you? If you, uh, bite me?” 

Dean groaned at the thought of accepting his lifemates blood. “Are you trying to torture me?” he asked, his entire body tensing as he shared the image running through his mind of himself, sucking hard on Sam’s nipple as he moved against him. Sam naked and writhing under him. Both of them close to coming, and Dean raising his head and burying his pearly fangs in Sam’s chest. Sam’s erotic moans, and Dean’s possessive hold as he drank his lifemate’s essence.

Sam’s eyes widened as the images and feelings evoked by them were quite clear in his mind. “Never… nevermind. Maybe… tomorrow,” Sam stammered, torn between the erotica and the reality of what it really meant. “...sorry,” he said softly. He wasn’t really certain what he was sorry for. That he couldn’t go through with it, that he was torturing Dean with the offer, all of it. “We’ll stick with human tonight,” he whispered quietly and tugged Dean’s hair, wanting another kiss.

Dean locked gazes with Sam and stopped before Sam pulled him all the way down. “Tomorrow, you’ll fear me less? You’ll open up your mind to the beauty of... of this?” he demanded. It was a question. It was a hint of uncertainty. Was he making a mistake? Lifemates did not wait, it was not their way.

“Tomorrow, I said I’d look in your mind for all the answers to all my questions, and I will. You said I’d understand, and when I understand… yeah, I think I’ll fear you less. I hope I will. When I see what it’s like to be… what you are. When I see everything about lifemates. If I don’t fear you less, we’ll cross that bridge then, okay? If you truly believe we’re lifemates then why are you afraid I’ll say no?”

“I’m not afraid.” Dean growled. He saw the disbelief in Sam’s eyes. “Because I lost hope. I didn’t think this would ever happen to me. For me. And waiting... it’s unheard of.”

“I’m not some virgin girl being sold into marriage for three cows thousands of years ago.” Seeing Dean’s anger Sam gave a huff of irritation. “What I mean is, I won’t go into this without the pretense, at least, of having a say in it. I don’t know. If I wasn’t a hunter, if my dad hadn’t been killed by vamp--” Sam bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to tell Dean that. “All things change. It did happen for you, but you got stuck with a stubborn ass of a Winchester who’s making you wait. So now it’s no longer unheard of.”

“Now it’s no longer...” It was Dean’s turn to huff. “Do you make light of everything?” He already knew the answer to that. Sam didn’t take his father’s death lightly. Not at all. Or of the fact that what had killed him had been fanged. 

“Humans. They form hate groups, gangs of-- I guess they think they’re hunters. They try to hunt us down. They find poisons or other ways to capture us, torture us, for no reason. No reason other than our fangs and immortality. They’re evil, Dean said without a hint of doubt. “But I know that not all humans are like that. So even if you equate me to a vampire... you’ve got to at least know, or acknowledge, there’s good and bad. Just like there are good and bad humans.”

“Even with ‘my’ type of vampires, there are good and bad,” Sam acknowledges. “‘Your’ type, I barely know what to classify them as other than as fucking scary. It’s just… what would you do if, when we first met, I was the one who approached you, while you were being hunted and poisoned, and said, hey, you’re my soulmate so I’m going to turn you human and by the way, you don’t have a choice in the matter. And I’ll hunt you down wherever you go.” Sam locked gazes with Dean, begging him to understand.

“I’d take one look at you, and I’d say yes,” Dean answered with complete honesty. “I’d say yes.” He closed his eyes. “But you’re not like me. You’re not Carpathian. I... understand. But I don’t have to like it,” he added, opening his eyes.

“Look at it this way. You’ll have something to make fun of me about for the next thousand years,” Sam said, feeling like Dean did get it. “So would you kiss me already? Please?”

_As you wish._ Leaning in, Dean brought their mouths together again, kissing Sam tenderly this time, trying to show him that he could be trusted not to take. And if the time came when he couldn’t be trusted, he would pull away, just like he had earlier in the night.

*

They’d laid there, with Dean spooning behind Sam. Sometimes they spoke out loud, sometimes mentally. Sometimes Sam dropped off into sleep in short little snatches. 

It was an hour before dawn. Dean had been loath to leave Sam even for a minute, but hunger was gnawing at him. Slowly, he rolled off the bed and stood up.

Sam reached out and gripped Dean’s hand. “Where are you going?” he asked sleepily. “Thought you were gonna stay with me until almost sunrise. I’ve got another--” He glanced at the timer he’d set on his watch, “forty-four minutes and twelve seconds.”

Dean squeezed Sam’s hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re coming with me. I can’t leave you alone after that vampire. It was here for you, not me,” he said. “I’ll be back, and then we’ll get out of here.” Brushing Sam’s mind, he soothed him.

“Where are you going?” Sam insisted and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I have to feed. It won’t take long,” he promised. “I’ll bring you coffee.” He made a face but knew how much Sam favored the stuff.

“Feed? From someone else?” Sam asked feeling a strong sudden flare of jealousy. He bit his lower lip and gave a nod. “Yeah, of course you do. Go on. And don’t go making a face at my coffee, or I’ll make you get me a big plate of bacon and ham and eggs and stuff.” He tried to bury his jealousy as deeply as he could.

“They won’t taste as good as you. Not even as good as how I imagine you taste,” Dean said, grinning. “I’ll be back with your... stuff.” Pushing the door to one side, he walked through it.

_Don’t put me up there with the Holy Grail. And if we go anywhere, it’s to the castle. The next stop on my trip. I’m safe from the vamp during the day and I intend to take the tour of the town. So don’t be treating me like some princess in a tower._ Sam scolded him, still hating that Dean was going out to feed. 

_Train. Princess in a train, not tower,_ Dean corrected, smirking, because he knew Sam was put out. Soon, they’d have everything ironed out. Very soon.

_Jerk,_ Sam groused.

_Hunk_ It was a correction, not a return insult.

* * * 

Dean had taken Sam up on top of the roof of the train, and then holding him in his arms, he’d levitated up high. “If you’re disappointed, I’ll do the _bat_ thing, but if I’m shifting, I really have a preference for hawks or wolves,” he said, searching Sam’s face. 

“You’re taking me to the town, to the castle, right? And you really can shape shift? Can you shift into anything, like… even a dragon?” he asked curiously. He watched the train pull ahead and looked at Dean with a bit of consternation.

“You’re flying for the first time, and you’re grilling me about destinations and abilities,” Dean countered. “How about telling me how ‘cool’ this is and about how you can’t wait to experience more.” Giving Sam a look, Dean started to propel them in the same direction the train had gone.

“I’ve done hang-gliding and parachute jumping and bungee jumping. I’m not flying. You’re my own personal _jetpack,_ ” Sam said, chuckling. “And you’re so paranoid about my safety, I know I’m not in any danger. So can you turn into a dragon? Or a Pegasus? So I can, you know, _ride_ you while we fly?” Sam said, knowing he was sort of tormenting Dean, but he couldn’t help it. And the longer they flew, the more _real_ it felt. He wasn’t _falling_ , or in a plane. Flying. Dean was flying, like Superman. And he’d always had a sort of a thing for Superman...

“You can ride me as a wolf. Or better yet, just ride me naked.” Dean gave Sam a graphic flash of exactly what he had in mind. He knew damned well Sam was playing with him, and he wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“For a guy who’s lived a couple thousand years, you sure are impatient. Wait… are you a _virgin_?” Sam teased, ignoring the images Dean was sending him.

“Do I seem virginal to you, in any way, shape or form?” Dean asked tightly, wondering why the images he’d shared seemed virginal to Sam. “Is there something I’m ‘getting wrong?’” He practically growled, wondering if Sam knew something more, and where the hell he’d learned it.

“No,” Sam said, laughing, breathing in Dean’s scent as he kissed Dean’s neck. “Just didn’t know if you fooled around with anyone before you found your lifemate. It would explain your impatience. Still being a virgin and all.”

“I am not--” Dean swallowed when he felt Sam’s lips on his throat. “What’s the explanation for your lack of urgency?” he asked, “No, don’t answer that, or we might have a thunderstorm.” 

“What does my sex life have to do with the weather?” Sam asked, looking out over the countryside. It was really just mostly a collection of black and blacker shadows to him. He wondered what it looked like to Dean.

“That depends entirely on _your_ answer, which I don’t wanna hear.” The wind swirled around them as he flew a little lower, so that the leaves lifted off the ground and colored the air around them. 

“You sure like to give vague answers. Were you ever in the Marines?” Sam huffed, giving a slight shake of his head. His eyes tracked the leaves whipped up around them. “Can we go up high? See the Milky Way and all the stars? Maybe just stop for a minute and look at them?” Sam asked. He’d always liked looking at the stars. Good thing since it was often all he had to do when his father made him stay in the car when he was younger, and his dad was checking things out.

“Show me.” Dean said. “Show me what you want to see. I can’t get there, but I can build the image for you.” _Of course it would be easier if you were in my mind, showing me._ His gaze locked with Sam’s.

“I don’t mean space. I just meant go up a couple thousand feet and hover.” He recalled memories of watching the stars slowly creep through the sky, seeing the big beautiful ribbon of the Milky Way, and watching for shooting stars to make wishes on.

_Any excuse not to crawl in my mind_ , Dean groused, but shot them straight up in the air, as far as he could fly and still be certain Sam could breathe easily, while Sam let out with a whoop of excitement and surprise. He hovered there, remaining absolutely quiet, and only brushing Sam’s mind once in a while.

_You can look through my eyes, be in my head,_ Sam said as he twisted his head this way and that, his eyes slowly scanning the dark heavens above. He grinned with delight when he saw a couple shooting stars.

Dean pushed inside, not that he’d been asking permission. Whenever Sam left the surface of his mind open to him, he couldn’t fight the temptation to find a corner for himself. Of course it only made him crave for more, made him want to merge fully with Sam’s mind, the way it should be between them.

_I’m making wishes,_ Dean said, his voice low and velvety, clearly implying his wishes had everything to do with Sam.

_You’re incorrigible, you know that?_ Sam told him. _Let me see if I can guess one of them._ Sam turned from the stars and looked into Dean’s eyes. “I’m not sure what shines brighter, the stars or your eyes,” he murmured then kissed Dean deeply. _You better be getting me to the castle or the sun is going to rise and I’m gonna be pissed if my bride bursts into flames or something,_ Sam teased, finally breaking the kiss. “On Dancer, on Prancer, On Donner, on Vixen… yeah, _Vixen_ fits you.”

Dean’s arms had closed around Sam so tightly that he couldn’t have been comfortable. The realization had Dean loosening his hold. _How is it you make me want to throttle you and make love to you at the same time? The things you say, how can they be annoying and amusing? One of us is touched in the head, and I don’t know which one._ Closing his eyes, Dean sped them to the town.

“I can take you to a cavern in the mountains. You can listen to that music thing of yours when I go to ground. You’ll be hidden, protected,” Dean said.

“What? No way in hell! You’re taking me to the town. If this is one of my last days as a human, I’m gonna pig out on food and caffeine and take tours and see the sights!” Sam protested.

Dean made a face. “You are stubborn. Fine, but you _will_ allow me to make sure you’re alright. I’ll arrange for some friends, family friends, to come to you and watch over you. There are many humans who align with Carpathian families, watch our homes, conduct our business during the day.” Dropping down to the ground near a hotel that was of a better class than the one he had seen in Sam’s brochure, he took Sam’s hand. “Register under a false name. I’ll take care of it.”

“Dude, I didn’t bring any false IDs and I don’t speak Romanian. They’re going to want to see my passport. And fine about your friends but choose someone who will show me the sights and can speak some English. See. I can compromise if you can.” He kissed Dean chastely on the lips, then grinned at him, showing him his dimples.

Dean gave a snort. “That is not a good night kiss, and they will not need any of those things.” Pulling Sam along, he headed into the hotel lobby. Within minutes, he’d glamoured the man at reception, and Sam Virginess was registered as a guest.

Dean walked Sam to his room. “You’ve barely slept. The town won’t be awake for hours, so get some rest. I will have Ivan come to you by mid-morning.” He would have said noon, but he could tell from the look in Sam’s eyes that his lifemate was not going to be stuck in his room for hours on end.

“Virginess? Really? So not funny,” Sam told him. “Okay, I’ll sleep, grab breakfast at the morning buffet, and be ready for Ivan by...” Sam glanced at his watch. “...no later than ten-thirty. If he’s not here, I’ll head out on my own,” Sam warned him. “So give me a proper good night kiss, Mr. Hunk.”

Dean ran his hot gaze up and down Sam’s body, took a step, and had Sam pressed up against the door. One hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other cupping the side of his face, he brought their mouths firmly together. He swept his tongue across the seam of Sam’s lips, he teased for a moment, then delved inside and started a heated tango of tongues dancing, and bodies pressing together, and thoughts... images... floating back and forth between them, as each adjusted the image, layering it with their wants and needs.

By the time the kiss ended, Sam was hard. “You’re evil. I said good night kiss. Not a good morning surprise.” Sam suddenly didn’t want Dean to leave, in his very core of his being. He tightened his hold on Dean for a minute then swallowed back the desire every part of him wanted. It wasn’t the sex, it was just… he didn’t want to be away from Dean. Which was totally messed up. Besides, it was just one more day. Less than twelve hours. “Come find me as soon as the sun sets,” Sam said quietly.

*

Sam settled down to sleep pretty quickly. Dean was right that he hadn’t gotten much sleep. After a few hours he started to toss and turn with nightmares. Almost absentmindedly he reached out with his mind to find Dean, panicking when he didn’t sense him. Overwhelming loss filled him and he pushed harder with his mind, practically screaming Dean’s name.

Something disturbed Dean’s slumber deep within the healing earth. It stirred in his mind and started as a soft whisper, but soon, it amplified into panicked shouts. His lifemate. Dean abruptly woke and reached out with his mind, trying to sooth Sam, to wake him. _Right here. I’m right here, Sammy,_ he whispered over and over, tensing when Sam’s panic did not subside. _Wake. I command it._

Sam snapped awake and sat up, his panicked mind throwing open the window shutters, chasing away the shadows from the room. Mentally, he gripped Dean, practically clinging to him as he tried to get his bearings and piece together where he was and why.

_Listen to me, sweetheart. You need to breathe. Breathe for me,_ Dean insisted, sensing Sam’s heart was beating too fast and that he was holding his breath. _I’m right here. Right here._ He already knew what Sam would come to realize. That mental and physical distance between them would agitate Sam.

Sam took in a ragged breath. _The longer we’re apart… the worse this will get,_ Sam said, closing his eyes. _Sorry. I’m okay now. Or at least, I know what to expect. I’m going to go ahead and eat, get some coffee, then read email and stuff until your guy, Ivan, shows to take me around._ Sam gave a nod as if Dean could see him. _I’m good. Go on back to sleep._

_Are you trying to get rid of me already?_ Dean teased. _Not before you tell me what you dreamt of. I was having a very good dream._

_I was dreaming of candy canes and lollipops,_ Sam told him, kicking the blankets off the too short bed and walking into the bathroom. _I can imagine what you were dreaming about. You’re a perv,_ he said, but there was a definite teasing tone to his thoughts. He started the water running and as soon as it was hot, stepped into the freestanding tub that had a curtain he could pull around for the shower. There was a drain in the floor for any overspray. 

_I too was dreaming of licking things._ Dean chuckled and moved a little deeper into Sam’s mind. Not deep enough to see and hear everything Sam did, but enough that he realized Sam was in the shower. _You’re naked._ Even deep under the earth, with sleep tugging at him, Dean felt his body respond. 

_Dammit, stop peeking! Isn’t there something about not seeing the groom before the wedding or whatever? And yeah, I’m naked. It’s hard to shower with your clothes on,_ Sam snorted, lathering the soap he’d brought in his washcloth, and began to run it over his skin.

Dean was silent for a few minutes. Slowly, he burrowed deeper into Sam’s mind. He could feel Sam’s hand moving over his body, over his abs and his hips, and his thighs, then back to his abs. _You missed a spot,_ he said with a groan. 

_That’s because I’m not washing that spot,_ he glanced at his groin, _with you spying on me. Now would you stop playing prairie dog in my mind? It makes me want to scratch my brain, like it almost tickles or something,_ Sam said, leaning over and washing his legs.

_I am nothing like a prairie dog,_ Dean countered, a little insulted. _A big cat. A jungle cat, perhaps. Or a wolf. Definitely not a dog. Are you laughing at me,_ he demanded, sensing something bubbling in Sam. 

_Genus Cynomus. Means ‘dog mouse.’ They’re rodents that like to burrow and get into places they don’t belong or haven’t yet been invited. Like a certain Carpathian I know._ Sam teased, delighted at Dean’s annoyance.

Dean made a grumpy sound. _Do I need an invitation to go where I belong?_

_Yes. Remember? I’ve got the whole day still belonging to myself. You and me… tonight,_ he said, his feelings a jumbled mix of fear and excitement. _Mouse._

_Now you’re calling me small?_ Dean demanded, insulted all over again. _I assure you, you won’t have any reason to complain._ He brushed against the edges of Sam’s mind, getting glimpses into his life and recoiling suddenly when he was treated to images of Sam’s first sexual experience.

_Dammit! Stop getting all wacko when you’re being the prairie dog!_ Sam didn’t mean to, but clutched Dean closer, not letting him recoil. _Dude, you aren’t gonna be my first. Sorry. I didn’t know I had some immortal vamp--Carpathian warrior waiting on me, planning to make me his eternal lover._ Giving a small sigh to himself, he quickly ran the rag over his groin, hoping Dean wouldn’t comment. How could he totally want Dean out of his head while at the same time be completely unwilling to let go of him?

The sensation of Sam’s mind clinging to his, not allowing him to move further away, soothed Dean like nothing else could. _I know,_ he said, his voice incredibly quiet. _If we were mind merged, if we were bound, I could fight these feelings. It’s --_ he lost his train of thought as he concentrated on where Sam’s hand was going and automatically burrowed deeper into his mind, feeling his hand gliding over his dick. 

Sam rolled his eyes. _You have got a one track mind, Pervo Mouse, but I guess if I was still a virgin after 2000 years and I got a gander of my one true love._ Sam glanced down at his soapy cock, and felt a blush steal over his cheeks as he set the rag aside and gripped his dick. _I’m not used to doing this with an audience, so, you know, it’s kinda embarrassing for me. Unless it would make it worse for you. So, uhm, do I jack off or rinse off?_

Dean gave a sharp gasp. _It will make it worse. And it will make it better._ Partially merging his mind with Sam’s, Dean mentally kissed him. It was a soft and tender kiss, coupled with an image of himself in the shower with Sam. _I’m not an audience._

Sam found his breath catching in his chest at the kiss he swore he felt, and the image of Dean being with him, naked, in the shower, sent blood pooling in his cock almost instantly. _Damn, you’re better than Viagra,_ Sam thought as he felt his cock swelling and hardening in his hand. _And until it’s you doing the work instead of me, you’re an audience,_ he said, wishing he could figure out how to send an image of him tongue fucking Dean as Dean jacked him off. He ran his palm up and down his cock and let the sensations fill him. 

_Who is Viagra?_ Dean demanded, his sweet, soft kissing turning possessive as he shared images of himself closing his arms around Sam and holding him, kissing him and touching him, owning him.

Breaking into soft laughter, Sam shook his head. _Nevermind,_ he thought to Dean as he felt the brush of Dean’s arms, and the demand of his sweet kisses even as Sam found his hand was moving faster along his hard cock. _Mmmm, fuck… how can you be so damned good at the kissing and everything when you’re still a virgin?_ Sam wondered, forgetting for a moment that Dean wasn’t actually there.

_Not a virgin. Just... rusty._ Sinking just a little deeper, Dean could feel everything Sam felt, see what he was seeing. Seeing how Sam saw him, wanted him back, was pure torture when he was stuck deep under the earth and there was no way for him to rush to Sam’s side and make this real. Groaning, he started to kiss and touch Sam in exactly the ways that had Sam’s body reacting the strongest, making it real for Sam, even as he reaped the benefits.

Sam was practically lost in the sensations, distracted by the cooling water only long enough to turn it off, but any coolness that brushed over his wet skin disappeared with the fiery touches Dean was giving to him. Sinking down into the tub, he couldn’t seem to do anything but respond to Dean, kiss him back, and stroke himself harder and faster, knowing he was getting close to coming.

_Oh God... oh God, baby, I feel you... feel everything,_ Dean whispered thickly, concentrating on touching Sam everywhere, running the pads of his thumbs over his nipples, then gliding his fist over his cock. He gripped Sam’s ass, pulled him close. It didn’t have to make any sense. He could be everywhere, simultaneously in different positions. It was the feelings, the sensations that mattered, sensations that were sweeping him close to the edge. Making him want. Want to take Sam for real, to make him his. He fought his urges, fought his thoughts, thought of possessing his mate, and managed to concentrate on pleasuring him instead.

It was unlike anything Sam had ever felt, yet was like being touched by the perfect lover. Dean seemed to know his most sensitive spots, the way he liked to be touched and teased and squeezed and loved. He couldn’t help himself, groaning as he imagined returning the touches, as he found himself spying into Dean’s mind just a little, but trying not to let himself get lost in his lover’s mind. That thought terrified him in a way he couldn’t explain, but it didn’t stop him from pushing his own self-imposed boundaries just a little. 

He felt Dean’s need and the way he burned for Sam. He felt the loneliness, loneliness mirrored in his own heart but his was only for his short handful of years. He felt the millennia that Dean had suffered, waiting and hopeful, only to be disappointed time and time again as the next generation was born and his mate was not among the offspring. And then sensing Sam-- Sam found himself suddenly arching, crying out as he came hard and long, colors exploding behind his eyelids, mimicking the sudden overwhelming exposure to color Dean had experienced when their minds had first touched. Sam struggled to stroke himself, milking himself to the very end until he sank back into the tub, panting. 

Sam’s invasion into his mind pushed Dean over the edge, every cell in his body and mind, reaching for Sam, burning for him, coming hard with him. _Not lost. Not lost, Sam. Found,_ he whispered over and over as he rode the last waves of his release. It had been so long, so long, every dream, every hope he’d had in the centuries when he’d still hoped... they paled in comparison to what was between himself and his lifemate. _Found,_ he said again, this time stroking Sam’s hair lovingly as he held him against his chest, fighting against the sleep that pulled at him.

_That was amazing,_ Sam whispered dazedly, loving how Dean touched him, both before and now, holding him, treasuring him, holding him as he’d always dreamed, finding both ferocity and gentleness in the same lover. He laid there, in the tub, for a while, just soaking it up, at least until his growling stomach forced him to stir. He stood up, stretching out cramped and still damp muscles, turning on the chill water just long enough to rinse off before whipping open the shower curtain and grabbing a towel.

_Okay, Mouse. Go off and dream of cheese. I’m going to spend the day exploring with Ivan. I’ll see you when the sun sets,_ he said as he began drying himself off and walking out to his duffel to dig out clothes for the day.

_If I dream about cheese when you’re in a public place, you might get arrested,_ Dean said smugly, then thought about his own situation. _It’s a very good thing it only takes a thought to clean up. He’s coming._

_Who’s coming?_ Sam asked as he stepped into his jeans, then heard pounding on the door. He heard the man call his name, then say he was Ivan. _That’s your friend?_ Sam asked as he pulled on a shirt and headed for the door.

_He will watch over you while I cannot,_ Dean confirmed. _Promise me you won’t take any risks. If there is any sign of danger, you will do as Ivan says and retreat._ It went completely against his grain to allow Sam to roam the streets when there were clear indications that someone... vampires... were after him. _I can’t lose you._

_I won’t take any risks, promise. And stop worrying. The vampire has to go to ground just like you, right? So if it sends someone after me, it’ll be someone human, and Dude, I can handle myself against most beasties and humans, and I know when I’m outgunned and need to run. Get some rest already. I’ll be fine._ Sam opened the door, shook Ivan’s hand and told him he’d be ready in a few and to meet him down in the breakfast room. 

Ivan’s mouth dropped open and he stood there dumbly, one hand on the door, to prevent it from closing.


	5. Chapter 5

“Is there a problem?” Sam asked, trying to be patient with the guy.

The prematurely gray-haired man with craggy features came to his senses. “You are not what I was expecting,” he answered, still looking unsure. 

“Lemme guess. Dean left out the part about me being a guy? What did he tell you?”

Ivan gave a brisk nod. “This is very... I have never heard of Carpathian lifemates of the same sex.” His brows snapped together. “Where is he?”

“He told me it happens sometimes if the Carpathian is a frontline fighter,” Sam said with a shrug. “Who’s where? Dean? You tell me. You’re his buddy. You should know. Cause if you don’t,” Sam was digging through his duffel bag and discreetly closed his hand around his machete, “it might make me think you don’t know him that well.”

“The last time I saw him I was fourteen. What are you...” Ivan focused on the bag, his own hand reaching for the dagger inside his jacket.

Sensing Sam’s rising anxiety, Dean roused himself and evaluated the situation. _Leave him be, Fierce One. He is who he says._ Dean chuckled. _Tell him if he threatens you, I will tell his mother what happened to the Alexandrov sisters’ underwear._ Despite finding the situation funny, Dean’s protective instincts surged and he would quickly lose his sense of humor if Ivan did not release the weapon. 

Sam released the handle of the machete and pulled out an overshirt. “Sorry. I’m a little cautious. He said for me to tell you if you don’t behave he’ll tell your mother about the Alexandrov sisters’ underwear. That sounds like a tale you’ll have to share with me. He’s close and irritated as hell that I insist on having a last day of freedom before it goes official-like.” 

“Irritated.” Ivan chuckled and gave Sam a knowing look. “I will see you downstairs, Sam Virginess. My wife will want all the details, how you wear your hair, clothes, whether you wear false lashes... at least this makes it simple.” With that, he turned around and headed down the hall.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll be down in fifteen, okay?” he called after Ivan before closing the door. After pulling on his socks and boots, he settled at the small narrow desk in front of his laptop. As soon as it connected to the internet via his phone, he gave a quick look over email. After scanning the information that Bobby had sent about Carpathians, Sam reached for his phone and called Bobby. It was about midnight Bobby’s time, but he figured Bobby would be up.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam said as soon as Bobby picked up.

“Bout time you called,” Bobby grumbled. “Just ‘cause you’re on vacation don’t mean you can ask me questions about Carpathian blood suckers and then keep me in suspense,” he growled, not stating the relief he felt at hearing Sam’s voice.

“Sorry, Bobby. Things got kinda crazy yesterday. So, does any of the research say anything about Carpathians who aren’t evil? Does it differentiate between Carpathians and vampires at all?” he asked, making sure to block his conversation from Dean, in case he was listening in. 

“The only good vampire is a dead vampire. You know that, especially after what happened to John! It may not be the answer you want, boy, but it’s the only one yer gonna get. I don’t care how _nice_ he was to you, or how pretty,” Bobby made a face, “but there are plenty of other fish in the sea who _aren’t_ vampires. Now you can’t go against it alone, especially if you think you might have feelings,” he wiggled the fingers on his left hand, “so I want you to get on the next plane and head on home.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to cut my first fucking vacation-- ever-- short,” Sam said firmly. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Bobby, there’s a big difference between Carpathians who are vampires and Carpathian killer vampires. I’ve seen both types now and I know it’s true.”

“You’ve what?” Bobby exclaimed sitting up straighter in his old recliner.

“Calm down. I’m fine. Look, I bolted from the town I was in yesterday, because Dean pretty much freaked me out, and I figured I’d move on to the next place on the travel agenda, leave him behind, and forget all about him. Vacation means not a hunter, right? But Dean, he tracked me down.”

“That right there tells me you need to come home, where you have back up, Sam,” Bobby insisted.

“I won’t lie, it did freak me out, him showing up, standing in front me like a wet--” Sam hastily changed his terms, “like some sort of Adonis. A dangerous, deadly, vampiric Adonis.” He heard Bobby exhale in what he hoped was relief, either from not getting the TMI version, or from Sam recognizing Dean was potentially dangerous. “We went and got food in the dining car. The guy has some amazing abilities, like changing my clothes from Salvation Army hand-me-downs to a tailored silk suit worth a small fortune, all with a simple thought.”

“What?” Bobby exclaimed, getting up and going to his desk and flipping open a book. “No. Sam, that’s just not possible. Illusion. Has to be. He’s messing with your mind.”

“It was real,” Sam said, trying to be patient. “Regardless, we went to his cabin and talked. A lot. If he wanted to just convert me or drain me, or whatever, he could have done it there. I’m still me. While I was there I had a premonition that a vampire came after me. I mean a scary, powerful, shit-your-pants type of thing. It did and Dean protected me from it and killed it. He doesn’t know why it’s after me. He thought maybe it was because of him, but it’s not.”

“He sent it after you,” Bobby said firmly. “Any fool can see that.”

Grinding his teeth, Sam had to resist the urge to just hang up. “Dammit Bobby, just listen to me.”

“I am listening and I don’t like what I’m hearing, not one damned bit!”

Taking a deep breath, Sam decided to just plow forward with the information he knew would really send Bobby over the cliff. “He says I’m his lifemate, Bobby. Carpathians aren’t like us. They have a single mate and they mate for life, and recently they’ve begun to have to find their mates with psychic humans. I didn’t want to believe what he told me, that I’m his lifemate-- but yeah, I think, no, I _know_ I am.” He bit his lip as he thought about Dean. “He’s overbearing, very old world, and sometimes I just want to knock some sense into that old-world brain of his, but he’s trying really hard to give me time to adjust to all this. And… I like him. I want to get to know him better. To see what’s really between us because I think-- Bobby, I think he and I are right together.” He waited, expecting Bobby was going to explode and give him ultimatums like his father would have.

“He’s your _lifemate_ ,” Bobby said in an almost sing-song way, his voice rising. “Just listen to yourself! He’s gone and done something to you, you have to know that. I can name at least three love potions and several creatures that can inject something that can make a person open to their powers of suggestion. Vampires, well you know they have the power of compulsion. Sam, you do what I say. Trust me, trust my instincts. I’m family and that thing, it ain’t.”

“Yes, I know they have that power,” Sam snapped. “All vampires and Carpathians like him can,” Sam said. “But he hasn’t done anything to me. Bobby, I trust you. You are family, the only family I have left. But he’s _not_ a thing. If I left now-- No. I can’t. I have to at least give him a chance to prove himself. I have to. Trust _me_ Bobby,” he pleaded. 

“Trust you to go and get yerself killed? No.” Bobby shook his head in denial. “You get yourself home. If he’s your soulmate, or whatever, he can damned well court you in your own territory where you’ve got people.” Bobby’s fingers moved over the keyboard in front of him. “I’m getting you booked on a return flight and I’ll email the information to you. Sam, be on that flight.”

Sam was silent. Bobby’s demands, he knew they were sensible. If Bobby told him what he’d told Bobby, he’d demand the same thing. But he couldn’t do it. “No,” he said quietly but firmly. “You can meet him tonight. I’ll Skype with you. You can grill him, whatever. I want you to meet him and then you and I can talk, okay? I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.” 

“There ain’t nothing I can tell about him over Skype. And he catches on that you’re suspicious, that might get him riled. If he did something to you right there on Skype…” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen you do anything this foolish. Never.” He took a few deep breaths. “Look, I know it hasn’t been easy, especially after yer daddy…. I can’t fill his shoes, but I’m doing my damned best. And my ‘best’ is to get you to listen to reason.”

“Bobby, you can tell a lot about him on Skype. I’ve told him about you. He said since I trust you, he’ll trust you. And I don’t want you filling my dad’s shoes. Please, at least meet him? At least try?” Sam begged. “Please. And I don’t want hunters here. Don’t call anyone in. I swear if you do, you won’t hear from me again,” he said firmly.

Bobby sputtered angrily at the ultimatum, knowing Sam wasn’t bluffing. And he knew as well as anyone just how stubborn Winchesters could be. Reluctantly, he finally capitulated. “All right. I’ll meet him. Even if it is just to have his mug on record if anything, and I mean _anything_ happens to you.”

“Awesome!” Sam let out a breath. “All right, then I’ll Skype you tonight at nine pm my time. If I can’t for some reason, I’ll call you on the phone. See you tonight, Bobby!” 

“It’s _not_ awesome,” Bobby countered, hanging up and reaching for a bottle of hard liquor which he would follow up with an all-night research session.

“Yeah, it is,” Sam said after he heard the click of the phone and headed downstairs to have breakfast with Ivan.

*

Sam had done as much exploring as he could fit into the day, focusing on being out in the sunshine. He liked Ivan and Ivan’s dry sense of humor, and it didn’t take long for the older man and Sam to act as if they were cohorts in crime. Sam was relentless in asking questions about Carpathians, about Dean and about any other Carpathians that Ivan knew. Ivan had never met any of the others but had heard names mentioned now and again. Some had gone vampire, some had greeted the dawn to avoid becoming vampires, and others were still alive and married or waiting for their lifemates.

There was no denying that Sam still didn’t like the idea of being forced into this union, and he really didn’t like the idea he would be changed, forever, into something else, something not human. Being turned into a vampire… and no matter what Dean said, to Sam, a vampire meant you drank blood. Anything else was a bonus. Carpathians were vampires, whether Dean wanted to acknowledge it or not. Those Carpathians who went evil were apparently viler than a ten-day old corpse rotting in the sun, and were, in part, the ones that gave Carpathians an evil reputation. Even so, the hunter in Sam struggled with the idea of vamps that should be allowed to live, just as he’d struggled with the idea when he’d let Lenore and her nest live. Lenore had made him rethink a lot of things, including that all vampires weren’t evil, weren’t killers. That just because vampires had killed his father, not all vampires were to blame. 

Sam also realized that Bobby would never be okay with Dean turning him into a Carpathian. He wasn’t sure why he so needed Bobby to talk with Dean. Bobby wouldn’t be able to feel the love Dean had for him. He wouldn’t know how crazy it was making him not to be with Dean, the way he kept reaching for him, feeling like a gaping hole had been cut in his chest, needing to talk to Dean, but forcing himself to stay in control. He knew Dean was safe. He knew Dean was sleeping. He knew he’d see Dean soon. At least, that was the mantra he kept repeating to himself to try to keep himself together. The final realization was that he didn’t think he would be able to stand another day away from Dean, of being cut off from Dean like he was right now. Although he laughed and dashed from place to place like the best of tourists, inside he was as twisted up as a string of Christmas tree lights. The entire time he ate dinner, he was watching the sun sink toward the horizon, tossing back alcohol like water just to keep his calm exterior as he waited anxiously for the sun to set and for Dean to finally awaken and come to him

Dean was quietly taking up a corner of Sam’s mind, listening in. It was clear his lifemate was torn inside. That he had reservations about the change that Dean was beyond certain would make Sam happier and more complete than he could imagine. Before he interrupted Sam to tell him how wrong he was and how useless it was to worry about matters that would soon fade into non-issues, he considered Sam’s reaction and managed to edit himself. 

_Missed me, beautiful?_ he asked, his voice low and seductive. 

_Dean! Where are--_ Sam’s eyes locked with Dean’s, who was standing outside the low wrought iron fence around the outside section of the restaurant. Practically without thought, Sam was out of his chair, leaping over the fence and into Dean’s arms, kissing him. _No. Didn’t miss you at all. Can’t you tell?_

_Mmmm. I’ll have to leave again, so you don’t miss me some more._ Fading them into invisibility so that they wouldn’t draw attention, Dean tightened his arms around Sam and kissed him back with the hunger of hundreds upon thousands of years. Every kiss, every slide of tongue against tongue, every soft whispered sound, every new emotion flaring within him confirmed this was not just a dream... or a wish. He had found his lifemate, and Sam was very, very real. 

_No, don’t leave--_ Sam started to insist, but his words faded as Dean’s hunger for him set his body on fire. He wouldn’t let go, couldn’t let go. He knew a part of him was irretrievably in Dean’s possession. Even if he said ‘no’ and walked away, he would never be whole again. It wasn’t fair that he had to become something his father had hunted, his few hunter friends had hunted, he, himself had hunted, just to be with Dean, to feel happiness and love like he had never felt. It was such a damned high price to pay.

He finally forced himself to pull away from Dean’s intoxicating kisses. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, one side of his mouth tugging up into a smile. “I promised Bobby we’d Skype with him at nine. I want him to meet you. I know it may not go well. He’s convinced you’ve drugged me or cast a spell or put a compulsion on me. He doesn’t believe in lifemates and he doesn’t believe that anyone who drinks blood isn’t evil. He wanted me to go home, to fly home earlier today, and said you could court me there.” Sam intertwined his fingers with Dean’s. “I told him ‘no’ but it’s really hard. I still have so many questions.” 

Dean grew a little somber. He searched Sam’s eyes, wondering if his lifemate’s doubts were so strong that he was going to ask to be freed. Not that it would be possible, not in the sense that he would ever be the man he had been before meeting Dean, if he walked away. Reaching out, Dean ran his knuckles down the side of Sam’s face, brushing his mind and trying to reassure him.

Sam changed over to telepathy. _Things like, can you even travel to the States? How many… humans… have you killed? Do you have to kill to… you know, eat? When I change… will you have to keep me locked up until I get my bloodlust under control? How… different… am I going to be from what I am now?_ He had pulled Dean close, practically resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and there was a slight tremor in his body, the fear growing inside him even as the fears spilled out of him to Dean. Part of him rebelled against the idea, but another part of him knew he was already lost. He wouldn’t go another day without Dean with him. Dean’s very presence eased the raw pain inside from not being with Dean these past hours. 

“There you are. Sam!”

As Ivan approached, Dean gestured for the man to give them a moment. Since he had faded them away while they kissed, Ivan must have been worried he had lost his charge.

“Sam, you worry so much,” he whispered, holding him close. “The only one who can give me bloodlust is you. The only one who will be able to give you bloodlust, is me. Control is not an issue, I promise you,” he said. “I have never killed a human for food.” Running his fingers through Sam’s hair, he continued to speak softly. “Those who I have killed, it has been self-defense. Hunters,” he admitted. “Not hunters like you...” Concentrating, he gave Sam a small inkling of the labs that their human enemies maintained and the tortures they devised for Carpathians. He showed him, for a fraction of a second, the pain their poison had inflicted on him only days ago.

Pain shot through Sam, causing him to gasp. It passed in a flash but what Dean had endured had been horrible. Anger boiled up inside him that anyone could do this for no reason to Dean other than Dean wasn’t human! And the anger drained away just as fast, knowing hunters who could be capriciously cruel to other supernatural creatures they killed. At least his father hadn’t been that way, and Bobby wasn’t. They believed in hard and fast take downs when possible, and didn’t revel in torture. 

He sucked in a breath. “I know you don’t really understand my fears. Maybe they even seem silly and childish to you. I wish… I wish we could take a few months to get to know one another, to build a relationship not created by… souls needing each other.” He gave a slight nod. “I know it can’t be that way. It just… it just sucks that… that the first time I get away from what I was forced to grow up into, a few weeks or a few months of just being a faceless no-one in the crowd, I don’t even get a couple days. I know that sounds selfish. I just wanted to be normal. Pretend to be normal.” He gave a soft sigh and met Dean’s gaze. “Let’s finish-- let me finish dinner and have dessert. Then it’ll be time to call Bobby, and afterwards, well, I said I’d try looking inside that gorgeous head of yours for all the answers to all my endless questions. And we’ll go from there. Okay?” 

Dean took Sam’s hand. “I’m not turning you tonight. It takes three exchanges,” he said. “I thought we would...” As he stared at Sam, he shared his mental images. His mouth on Sam’s. Sam’s mouth sliding down along Dean’s abs. Hands gliding over each other. Their necks arching back as they gasped for air. “Do I need to work on my ‘pick-up’ line?” He wore a smug expression because he knew exactly how he’d affected Sam.

Sam’s eyes had lost focus, glazing over a bit as heat and blood raced for his downstairs brain. “N-no, your p-pick-up line is--” Sam’s gaze sharpened and he focused on Dean. “It better be unique for me,” he said, both possessive and jealous. He turned towards Ivan and tugged Dean after him, leading him through the gate. _C’mon, Mouse. The last of my dinner is probably cold by now. And you might have mentioned it took three times to change me, jerk. So I still have three more days to vacation!_

_Mouse.... Jerk... not very good nicknames for a Carpathian warrior._ Dean could only imagine the jokes he’d be subjected to by his brethren. _Your ‘Adonis’ moniker would suit me much better, even if the man’s beauty was overrated._ They reached the table and he shook hands with Ivan.

“It has been a long time, my friend,” Ivan said, giving Dean a warm smile. “As you instructed, we have opened up your home. It is being aired out and all will be ready.”

“Thank you. For that and for watching over my--”

Ivan made a sound of denial. “Believe me, _this one_ does not need watching over. He is good with a knife.”

“What happened?” Dean demanded, looking between the pair of them.

“Nothing. He gave a demonstration of his skills,” Ivan answered.

Sam chuckled. “He was saying he could take down a doe at forty paces with a throwing knife. So we set up some targets and did some knife throwing.“ Grinning, Sam added, “That’s why he’s paying for the dinner and the drinks tonight. And now who’s worrying too much, Handsome? I promised I’d stay out of trouble. And we did. Mostly.” He gave a conspiratorial wink to Ivan.

“He’s teasing,” Ivan quickly said, not as willing to raise a Carpathian’s ire.

“Yes. I’m coming to realize he does that a lot.” Dean ran his hand up and down Sam’s back, then pulled two chairs out and sat down. “Ivan sit down, finish your meal,” Dean said.

“I’d best get home,” the man answered with a shake of his head. “I will see you tomorrow,” he said to Sam, then headed away from them.

“See you then.” Sam agreed with a wave. Turning to Dean, Sam smiled. “He was a good choice as a tour guide for me. We get along well and he knows all the history of the town and the surrounding areas.”

“I’m glad you got along. Most Carpathian families traditionally align with a human family. During the day, they do the things we cannot, and we protect them and pay for their services. Friendships develop,” he said with a nod. Gesturing for a waiter, Dean asked him to warm up Sam’s food and to bring him a glass of wine and a platter of cheese and bread. 

“He said he hadn’t seen you since he was fourteen. And you have a boarded-up house around here? Where have you been in the past, what, forty years? And does that mean your house is out of date by that many years?” Sam asked, grimacing internally at the thought of old wiring, few outlets, and no internet. 

Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry, his family has instructions to ‘bring it up to date,’ like I left yesterday.” Naturally, that did not fully satisfy his lifemate who was preparing to pepper him with additional questions. “I was away. In the thick of the jungles of the Amazon. It is a good hiding place for Vampires and for Carpathians near the edge.”

Sam reached out and took Dean’s hand, his face coloring just a little. “Are you still feeling near the edge?” he asked softly.

Threading his fingers through Sam’s, Dean smiled. “Not at the moment. Right now, I have everything I could ever want.” Staring into Sam’s lustrous eyes, he squeezed his hand slightly.

Sam nodded his thanks to the waiter for the wine and cheese and broke off a bit of the fresh bread that came with it and sampled a few pieces of cheese. “I never knew there were so many types of cheese,” Sam said and took a sip of wine. “I’m not very worldly. We never had money. My clothes were thrift-shop specials. Part of the time Dad sort of home-schooled me and part of the time I went to school. We always had a fairly decent laptop, and cell phones. But we got most of those from credit card scams or hustling pool. When my dad died, I got the car and the weapons. It’s a nice car, even if it’s old. It was sort of my only real home growing up. It feels kinda strange, it not being here. The car’s always been a constant in my life. If you’ve been to the Amazon, then that means you can--we can eventually go to the States, right?”

“Sam, I promised you, you will have more freedom and choices, not less. We can go anywhere in the world, anywhere. We don’t have to live here. I have to bring news of the poison to our Prince. He will, once in a while, give me missions to accomplish and I will continue to hunt. But, for the most part, where we go is our business.” He sat back when the waiter brought Sam’s warmed up food to the table, then continued. “It’s hard to believe, but you won’t miss the things you now think you’ll miss. What you have now will pale in comparison to what you will gain. If that weren’t true, if I didn’t believe it with all my heart, I would never turn you. Never.” Picking up the wine glass, Dean placed it against his lips exactly where Sam had sipped from it, although he didn’t open his mouth to allow the liquid in. 

Sam’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry! I thought you’d ordered that, uh, for me. Why didn’t you stop me,” he said, embarrassed when he saw Dean drink from the glass. He hadn’t thought Dean could drink wine. Even as he thought that, his eyes fastened onto Dean’s lips now stained and glistening with wine. He licked his own lips, ignoring the enticing smells of the reheated food.

Dean licked his lips clean of the wine, only because of the way Sam was watching him. “I thought you were helping me out. I’m not drinking it,” he said. “Not unless it’s off your lips.” His own gaze dropped to Sam’s tempting mouth. 

Forcing himself, and his perking cock, to slow down, Sam took a long deep breath. _The food was just for appearance. Got it. You still should have said something. And no we can’t start anything. As soon as I’m done eating, we can go back to my room, I can brush my teeth, then we can call Bobby on Skype._

“We’ll see,” Dean said noncommittally. His eyes were still focused on Sam’s lips and he was thinking of much, much better forms of foreplay than talking on a telephone. 

“I told him we’d call him at nine,” Sam said, giving Dean his very best Bobby-glare. _I don’t want to look all disheveled and tenting my jeans when we call him,_ Sam scolded him.

“Why?” Dean suddenly frowned. “Can he link to your mind? I did not sense anyone else...” Immediately, he started to burrow deeper into Sam’s mind, his jaw tightening at the thought of sharing Sam even in this minor way. “Open... I want to see,” he demanded, frustrated at finding that Sam had locked him out of all but the surface of his mind again.

“What?! No, of course he can’t! Internet video conference! We’re going to use the computer--” Seeing the look Dean was giving him, he couldn’t tell if Dean was pissed at him, or still didn’t know what he was talking about. “My laptop has a camera. So does his. We’ll talk to each other and be able to see each other. Skype is the software. And you’ll see in twenty minutes, Mr. Impatient. You don’t need in my brain. I bet you read the last page of every book before you ever even start it.”

“Oh. Camera. Okay.” Dean gave a relieved nod and closed his hand around the stem of his glass. “And yes, I do that. I’ll bet you read every word on every page, including chapter headings and footnotes, in order.” Still, he brushed Sam’s mind again, trying to get in, giving Sam another frustrated look. 

“Of course I do. It’s called ‘reading’ for a reason!” Sam felt Dean trying to burrow into his thoughts. “Stop being a mouse,” Sam scolded, giving him a dark look. He took Dean’s free hand. “I don’t want to influence your interactions with Bobby. No preconceived anything. He’s already majorly unhappy because of your… condition.” Sam squeezed his hand then released it and continued eating. _He was ready to call in hunters but I told him if he did, I’d never speak to him again. He’s just trying to look out for me. I need you to be your most suave, charming, and debonair self and try to win him over. Bobby’s like an uncle to me. He’s family._

Seeing how resolved Sam was, as well as how important this was to him, Dean didn’t argue. But he did have to ask, “And if I don’t win him over?” He licked his lips and focused solely on Sam. Nothing else mattered, just his answer.

Sam shook his head and looked at his plate of food. _You drink blood to live. That means you’re a vampire as far as any hunter is concerned, including Bobby. I don’t know if you’ll ever win him over, but I need you to try, to show him how much I mean to you, how much you love me. And I need to be able to look him in the eye and say you haven’t drank from me, or gotten in my head, or anything. That what I feel is real and that you’re not just playing with me. He’s my only family. We have to try to prove to him everything is on the up-and-up._ Bringing his gaze up to meet Dean’s he added, “and if you think I’m a stubborn cuss, wait until you’ve met him.”

“He holds a lot of sway over you,” Dean said dryly, very aware Sam hadn’t answered his question. He looked away, trying to rein in his thoughts. Sam was not going to slip away from him. He would not choose this Bobby, no matter what the man said. He told himself this over and over, but just the potential that things could go in that direction had him on edge.

“Yeah, he means a lot to me. And I know what I’d do if he was telling me the same things I’m telling him. I might disown him, or even have hunters on his ass. We probably ought to stay on especially high alert. If I thought he could make it here in twelve hours, I wouldn’t be shocked if he showed up in the flesh, spending every last dime he had to do it.” Sam snagged another piece of cheese and some of the wine, then pushed his dinner plate aside. “Okay, I’m full. Shall we go face the wrath of Bobby?”

“I thought my job was to charm his pants off.” His humor was a little forced. Staying Sam’s hand from reaching for his wallet, Dean took care of the bill for the things he had ordered and stood up. 

Sam stared at Dean, the image of Bobby standing with only his briefs on coming unbidden to his mind. “Dude, ewww, so not… No charming Bobby free of his pants. You may charm my pants off after we’ve talked with Bobby.”

Dean made a grumpy sound of disbelief. “You’re like one of your modern video games. Beat one level and another one is unlocked. Always the promise of satisfaction but...” 

“I could grope you here in public if that would give you some satisfaction,” Sam offered, trying to keep a straight face.

Dean’s head snapped towards Sam. “Really?” he asked, deadly serious.

Sam shook his head. “Dean likes voyeurs. Check.” After rolling his eyes he leveled his gaze on Dean. “If you really want me to, yes. I’ll give you one good ten second grope.”

“You,” Dean pointed at him, “are a tease.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dean resisted the urge to influence Sam with waves of his own desire. He started to walk in the direction of Sam’s hotel, making a real effort not to think about the things they could be doing, experiencing.

“I do my best,” Sam said, laughing.

Five minutes into the walk, Dean stopped suddenly. “It’s not working. I can’t get you out of my head.” Dean’s nostrils flared slightly as he stared at Sam. “Grope me,” he demanded, causing the wind to tornado around them, fading them out of view so no one on the street could see them. 

“What?” Sam asked, but realized Dean was completely serious. “The grope is just going to make it ten times worse.” He gave a sigh, knowing he was going to pay for the ten second grope, too. “If I have wood when we call Bobby...” Sam grumbled. Even with his grumbling, Sam moved behind Dean and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling Dean back against him. Closing his eyes, his right hand slowly moved over Dean’s stomach, feeling the muscles tighten under his touch. Nuzzling Dean’s neck lightly, he slid his hand lower, then a little lower still. He nipped Dean’s neck as his hand reached down farther and he closed his hand around Dean’s shaft, moved up and groped his balls before squeezing Dean’s shaft and pressing his own groin against Dean’s ass as he gave a good, thorough groping to the Carpathian. “Damn you smell good,” Sam said against Dean’s skin even as he released Dean’s cock. 

Heat flowed through Dean’s veins like molten lava. Sam’s touches were like fire on ice, melting away centuries of cold, loneliness, and darkness. Replacing it with light and love. Emotion and desire. Just as he leaned back against Sam, Sam let go.

_No._ Desire raged inside Dean. He turned suddenly and took Sam into his arms. As they ascended up towards the sky, he brought his mouth down hard over Sam’s, in a fiercely possessive kiss. No one would come between them. Even as he promised Sam choices, Dean did not know if he could let Sam walk away from him. 

Breaking the kiss just as they touched down on the balcony outside Sam’s hotel room, the words started to tumble from Dean’s lips. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life to you. I give you my protection.” Each stanza of the ritual tightened the invisible bonds between them. “I give you my all-”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam put two fingers over Dean’s lips to silence him. “Shh. I can’t call Bobby and tell him we’ve already said marriage vows. You promised me a fraction of time. You promised me this day. And I promised I’d try my hand at playing prairie dog in your mind. You promised me some hot making out too with those pickup lines. So do your psychic stuff and make sure nobody’s hunting you or me. The sooner we call Bobby, the sooner we touch bare skin.” Sam replaced his two fingers with his lips, giving Dean a light kiss.

As Sam spoke, reminding him of his promises, conversing with him as if he weren’t on the very edge, as if he wasn’t holding Sam bone-breakingly tight, something shifted inside Dean. Loosened the tightness, the absolute need to get the claiming over and done with. Slowly, that need was replaced by an equally absolute need to make his lifemate happy and to give Sam what Sam needed.

Swallowing hard, he released Sam, though he kept his arms looped around him, unwilling to allow him to step away just yet. Burying his face in Sam’s neck, he showed great restraint, only brushing his lips against Sam’s bare skin and torturing himself with the sensations and sounds of Sam’s blood pumping through his veins. “There’s no one. I sense no danger,” he said eventually, his voice thick and raspy.

Sam was content to stand there, to feel Dean’s breath on his neck, to feel the soft silk of his lips. He caressed Dean’s back and enjoyed the chill air of the evening, and having Dean in his arms. The stars were brilliant in the sky though clouds seemed to be slowly slipping in to hide them away.

Sensing Dean wasn’t going to move until he forced him to, Sam finally took a step back. “C’mon. Let’s get the ‘meet the parents’ over with.” He tilted his head, a thought occurring to him. “Are your parents still alive?”

Dean didn’t quite yank him back like he wanted to, but he did put his arm firmly around Sam’s back and held him close as they walked into the small hotel. When they reached the quaint room, he noticed the wooden shutters on the window were open. “No,” he answered, as his eyes darted around the rest of the room. Nothing was out except for the laptop sitting on the table. 

Sam moved over to the laptop and woke it up, then set up his cell phone to act as the connection. “Pull up a chair and don’t look like you’re constipated. Be charming, suave, et cetera,” Sam said then activated the Skype program and waited as patiently as he could for Bobby to connect. He entwined his fingers with Dean’s and gave him a reassuring smile.

Dean shot a dark glare at Sam, but pulled up a chair. With a thought, he changed his casual clothes into an expensive suit with a sharp tie. Then he found himself staring at a bearded man dressed like a forest logger. Spotting the ‘end call’ button, Dean moved too quickly for the human eye, and clicked the mouse over it, ending the call.

“I thought you said suave and charming,” he hissed at Sam, changing his clothes again. First he went for a plaid shirt like Bobby’s, but unable to bear it for more than two seconds, he switched again, this time into a plain tee shirt.

Meanwhile, Skype’s incoming call sounded.

Seeing Dean change, not once, but twice more, Sam burst into laughter. He was still in fits of laughter when he finally hit the answer button. “Sorry Bobby. Dean had a panic attack about meeting you and couldn’t decide what to wear. Bobby, Dean. Dean, this is Bobby.”

Turning bodily toward Sam, Dean gave him yet another look before he looked at the monitor. “No one’s panicking,” he said, taking stock of the disgruntled looking man staring back. “I was looking forward to meeting you, even if I’d have preferred it to be in a more... conventional way,” he said.

“Welcome to the modern world. Unless you can teleport here, this is the way we’re stuck meeting. I s’pose he’s told you I’m not taken with this whole idea of you and him together and I don’t believe in love at first sight.” Bobby glared at the man who looked about the same age as Sam, maybe a few years older. The t-shirt and jeans gave him a simple and relaxed look, but he’d caught the couple frames of the first call when the man had been snazzed up in a fancy suit.

“He’s told me.” Dean nodded. “And I don’t believe in ‘love at first sight,’ either. What we have, it’s more than love. It’s a connection, a bond. And it never, ever fades,” he said, his eyes burning with the truth.

Bobby gave a snort of disbelief. “More than love, is it? And Pity. I don’t think your mental mojo works across Skype so don’t you try any of that mental kung fu shit on me.” Folding his arms across his chest he looked at Sam then his gaze came back to the Carpathian. “If it never fades then where’s the fire? Sam’s implied the two of you are on the fast track of cementing your… togetherness. Even in America, couples usually date for at least six months before making it official like. Not counting Las Vegas tourists and celebrities.”

“Bobby--” Sam started to say.

“Shush, Boy. I don’t trust that the words coming out of your mouth are your own. Let the blood-drinker talk.” Bobby kept his voice level and even conversational as he defiantly met Dean’s gaze. 

“Blood-drinker.” Dean gave a short laugh. “I’ve heard a lot worse, and at least it’s accurate.” His first instinct was to tell the man to go fuck himself, but Sam’s need for the man’s approval pulsed in the back of Dean’s mind, reining him in. “Honestly? You’d have to use ear plugs if you wanted to prevent me from using my... ah... mental kung-fu shit on you. Voice compulsion,” he said, giving the man a look and recognizing the fact that the guy understood what he meant. “But even if I wanted to do it, there's no point. Once we merge, Sam would know everything... everything I’ve done. I wouldn’t hurt him like that,” he said, looking over at Sam. 

“So I repeat, where’s the fire?” Bobby said, fighting to keep his tone civil. He didn’t like any of this, but maybe he could convince Sam by putting the request to come home through Dean. Maybe then Sam could see what was as plain to Bobby as the nose on his face. You didn’t just bond or fall in love overnight. The damned vamp was just infatuated with Sam or something. “You gotta know--look, _Dean_ , the way Sam’s been hunting for information on Carpathians and vampires and such, it all tells me one thing. You scare him. You say you care about him? Then tell him to come home. You come with him. You court him right and proper here, where I know there ain’t no hanky-panky of the vampire sort. Prove to him, prove to me, you really… love… him and this isn’t just a passing fancy.”

“I wish I could.” There was real regret in Dean’s voice. “If we’d met maybe five hundred years ago, maybe I could have. Now.” His gaze flicked to Sam for a second, then back to Bobby. “I’m too near the edge to wait.” He quickly explained what that meant, even though he could see he wasn’t scoring any points. “Now...” A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “It’s a miracle I’ve waited this long. To you, a few days, for me... a lifetime. He does have a choice in this. It’s not much of a choice,” Dean admitted, “but it is all I can give.”

“And what is that choice, exactly?” Bobby demanded, his own jaw clenching when he saw Sam squeeze the damned vampire’s shoulder.

“Does it matter?” Dean asked. “It’s _his_ choice to make. But I promise you, Bobby... Uncle Bobby...” his gaze shifted to Sam to make sure he got that right, “if he chooses me, I will make him happy... keep him safe, give him a life most only dream of. One more thing. You won’t lose him,” Dean promised. “Carpathian’s value family over everything. He’s made it clear, you’re family.”

Bobby stared at the vampire and slowly shook his head, anger beginning to blaze inside of him. “By turning him--”

“Bobby,” Sam snapped, seeing the warning signs in Bobby. Bobby was getting that same look he’d get when he’d threaten to fill Sam’s ass full of buckshot. “Calm down, or call me back when you have.” His nostrils flared as he stared Bobby down.

Bobby’s lips pressed into a flat line. “Sam,” he said tightly, “mightent we speak alone?”

Sam nodded. “Babe, why don’t you step out on the balcony and get some fresh air while Bobby and I talk?” Sam said. When Dean turned his head to look at him. Sam stole a chaste kiss. _Go on. I don’t imagine I’ll be long._

Once Dean had walked to the balcony, Sam turned his attention back to the computer. “Bobby--”

“You ain’t seriously gonna let that thing turn you into a vampire, are you Sam?” Bobby demanded.

Running his fingers through his hair, Sam gave a one shouldered shrug. “Bobby, he’s not evil. Yeah… okay, he’s not human, and yeah, he drinks blood. But you know what Bobby? There are plenty of non-supernatural fauna that live on blood. They’re not evil either. And there are plenty of supernatural lifeforms that aren’t evil. He’s a _hunter,_ Bobby, just like us. And he can really kick some--” Sam jumped to his feet when he heard something at the door. He reached for his machete as the door splintered open. 

Dean was all but a blur as he moved from the balcony into the room, shoving Sam behind him. “Not vampires,” Dean said. “Humans... tainted?” He frowned, then decided it didn’t matter. The three men and one woman, each with unnatural, completely black eyes, had broken into Sam’s room and they had harm on their mind. In two strides, he grabbed the first of the men and broke his arm. When the guy still held onto the wicked dagger in his hand, Dean was puzzled, but he didn’t ask questions. _Move to the left._

Expecting Sam to obey instantly, Dean threw the man bodily. The guy sailed straight out the open doorway and crashed against the balcony railing.

“Dean! They’re people, possessed by demons. The people may still be alive!” Sam said and dove for his duffle where he had some holy water and salt. He began to chant the first exorcism that came to mind as he tossed salt at the demons to try to keep them back from Dean.

“Possessed. That makes it more complic--” Only it didn’t, at least not the instant one of them reached for Sam. “Make that, I don’t give a crap what they are.” Blurring toward Sam, he shoved the demon halfway across the room. Grabbing Sam’s arm to hold him in place, he commanded the wind. It slammed all three of the demons up high against the wall. When the wind stopped, they dropped down, but started getting up again.

Every knife in the room, and there were plenty, flew up into the air, only it wasn’t Dean doing it. The knife points were aimed toward Dean and Sam. 

“What the fuck?” Dean growled.

Sam stopped the exorcism, hoping that might buy them some time. “All right, you have our undivided attention,” Sam said, dropping the bag of salt and grabbing Dean’s arm which was pure steel under his touch. _Let’s try to find out what their game is and who the players are,_ Sam mentally coaxed.

_I won’t allow them to touch you._ Dean relaxed only slightly, but lifted his hand and pushed with his mind, until every last dagger faced away from them.

The demons glanced at one another uneasily. “Carpathian,” the woman hissed with disgust. “This doesn’t involve you. Leave, now. We have no argument with you.”

“You want me to leave? Now you’re hurting my feelings.” _Are you sure I can’t just kill them?_ Dean asked.

_No, not if we have another choice,_ Sam firmly answered. 

“Carpathians have no feelings to hurt,” the woman snarled. “Our interest is with the son of Azazel, not the offspring of a pagan god. Leave now Carpathian.”

“Clearly, you’re barking up the wrong tree. No son-of-an-Azazel here.” Even as he spoke, Dean saw each of the demons focus on Sam. He didn’t care that it might not be lust in their eyes, it still pissed him off. “Enough games. What do you want with him.”

The silence made Dean’s blood boil. “I said what do you want?” he repeated, his voice deadly quiet, and laced with compulsion. As the knives fell, one-by-one clattering onto the stone floor, Dean knew it was working. “C’mon... tell us and you can go free.”

The woman, the apparent leader, shook her head, trying to fight the compulsion. “Stop, Carpathian. I’ll kill the woman.” A knife jumped from the floor into her hand and she held it to her own throat. “Her children will be orphaned with her death.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and he began to finish the interrupted exorcism. 

Brushing Sam’s mind, Dean understood what Sam was doing. He focused on keeping the knife clear of the woman’s throat, while Sam performed his ritual.

A few moments later thick black smoke erupted from the throats of the possessed people and each then crumpled to the floor. 

Dean turned to Sam and grabbed his arm. “Why are these things after you,” he demanded. “First a vampire, now them. What are you hiding from me?” His eyes drilled into Sam’s as he demanded an answer.

“I don’t know!” Sam said. “I think I would have noticed if I’d picked up a cursed object or something.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “I think… I think I might know. Tend to those folks then call me back.”

Dean whirled around to the monitor. “We can tend, you talk,” he said, a command behind his tone. 

“Bullshit. I want your full attention on them, then on me. Not split!” Bobby said.

Before Dean answered, the demon he’d thrown out onto the balcony came back inside.

“Sam!” Dean headed for his lifemate, just as Sam sprayed the demon with more of his holy water. “Stay!” Dean commanded the demon. “Don’t move,” he ground out, compelling it. _Smoke him._

Sam recited the exorcism a second time, practically rushing through it, wanting to know what Bobby knew about why demons and vampires might be after him. As soon as the black smoke of the demon left him, the man collapsed to the floor, cradling his broken arm and groaning in pain.

Dean knelt next to the man and lifted his face. “You were robbed and beaten. Knocked out,” he said, satisfied when the man closed his eyes. He put his hand on the man’s arm and performed some medical repairs, taking away the worst of it.

When he turned to demand Bobby talk, he found the screen had gone blank. “I see stubbornness runs in your family,” he said, joining Sam next to the other human victims. 

“Yeah. When Bobby and Dad both got stubborn about something, I’ve heard salt rounds or even threats of buckshot get mentioned. Come on, let’s get them down to the lobby for a doctor to take a look at.”

“We’ll put them in an empty room and call the authorities,” Dean suggested. “Sam. I have to take you from this place. It’s not safe.”

After hesitating a moment, Sam nodded. “Okay. After we talk with Bobby. Wherever you think I’ll be safe. So long as it’s not some monastery in Tibet or a cave in Siberia or something.” 

Snaking his arm out and putting it around Sam, Dean pulled him close for a quick kiss. “Definitely no monasteries.”

*

After tending to the formerly possessed people, they returned to Sam’s room. Sam walked over to the computer to call Bobby back, when Dean stopped him.

“Bobby’s waiting for the call back. And I want to know what has suddenly made me so popular, don’t you?” Sam asked.

“I do, but I don’t want to wait around for more of your fans to show up. Grab your stuff,” Dean said, walking out to the balcony. “And remind me to tell Uncle Bobby that those things were not _blood suckers_.”

“He knows they were demons,” Sam said. “Okay, I’ll send him an email. Otherwise he’ll start to worry.” After shooting off the email to Bobby, Sam grabbed his kit from the bathroom, quickly re-packed the things he’d pulled out when digging for the holy water, and tugged his coat on. He did a final check, making certain nothing had slipped under the bed or anything, then packed his computer up and slid it down in the duffel in the space he’d made for it. Shouldering his things, he turned to the balcony. “Ready to go,” Sam said, feeling a little nervous and not sure why.

“Come.” Dean gestured and gave Sam a grin. “Ride me, _baby_?” He put his hand out, trying to rush Sam, without ‘rushing’ him. “Just making sure you don’t think of me as antiquated.”

Sam’s eyes widened a bit and he felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Not antiquated, Old World maybe.” He took Dean’s hand. “Old World is kinda nice.”

“Did you just give me a compliment?” Dean’s grin broadened as he closed his arms around Sam. “I’m assuming your demon friends can’t fly.” They lifted off the ground so slowly that Sam might not have noticed until they started to climb up into the sky. 

After a few moments, Dean brushed Sam’s mind. _Let me do the worrying. We’ll figure this out and deal with it,_ he promised. 

_I’m not sure which is worse. No one having a clue why the vamps or demons want me, or knowing that someone has information on why, and has had it all along and never told me,_ Sam said, holding onto Dean maybe a little tighter than he needed to. _My dad always operated on the ‘need to know’ crap and I hated it. I can’t believe Bobby’s kept something like this from me, but I’d bet Dad made him promise never to tell me or something. Only my Dad could be long dead and still piss me off on a semi-regular basis with new shit._

_Don’t get ahead of yourself. You may be getting angry over nothing._ Of course if Sam allowed him mind merge, Dean could know where Sam was coming from. Sensing that Sam didn’t want to be calmed down, he took an indirect route. Distraction. _You wanted to tour? Let me show you some sights before I lock you up in my tower._

_If the info comes from my dad, I doubt it’s over nothing,_ Sam said bitterly. He perked up at Dean’s offer, then scowled. _You’d better be joking about the whole locking me up in a tower. I’m not a fairy-tale princess. And don’t forget, I don’t see all that awesome at night. Human and all._ Even with his reminder, his eyes were scanning the town. Up ahead was the castle he was supposed to have stayed in, many of its windows and arrow slits glowing with golden light, that light reflected in the moat that encircled it. _Awesome,_ he whispered just staring at the castle.

_No, but you are my fairy-tale prince. And you’re beautiful. I’m beginning to see a theme._ Dean circled around the castle that had been converted to a hotel. _There was a time that those pikes there,_ he pointed with his chin, _were used to display the heads of executed criminals. The twinkling lights are much nicer._

_Heads? Yeah, that seems like a typical human tradition. The heads on a stick as a warning. That always sounded more gross than scary to me. Though I guess it freaked people out not to get a proper burial. Yeah, I think I prefer the lights, too._ His gaze finally moved from the castle to the homes around it. Some were already dark. The pub was obvious, both from the music and lights and smell of food. _Do you know who Superman is?_

_You’d better not be comparing me to that colorful man in tights._ Dean’s gaze shifted, meeting Sam’s.

Sam grinned at him. _Superman is awesome. I think I’m getting you a Superman shirt first chance I get. I bet you’d look good in a cape, too._

_You look more like Superman than me. I’m more of a... Batman. I think Uncle Bobby would agree._ Chuckling at his own vampire bat joke, he leaned in and kissed Sam. _Tell me, do Superman and Batman have a thing?_

Sam laughed. _No, I don’t think so. Though some have wondered about Batman being gay, the way he always hangs out with Robin. How far away is the tower you’re going to lock me up in?_

_You’re impatient. Hold tight._ It was the only warning Dean gave before the wind started to rush past them so fast it was hard to breathe. He felt Sam burrow his face in his neck, hiding his eyes from the stinging wing. _Almost there,_ he said eventually.

They flew over a large town, and then into a semi-wild area dotted with the occasional house. Dean finally dropped down into the courtyard of an ancient manor house. 

“We’re here.”

Sam raised his head and looked around. The house was certainly old, but the grounds seemed well kept if a little bland. The house was dark inside and Sam wondered if they’d even have running water or electricity. “How far did we fly? Are we still even in Romania?” he asked, shifting the duffel he carried a little bit as he tried to make out the door in the depths of the shadows.

“We’re on the outskirts of the final destination on your itinerary,” Dean answered, mentally pinpointing the light switch inside. The manor house lit up. The large entry appeared very much the way it had always looked, its stone floors a little worn, but gleaming. There were sconces on the wall, lit by electricity whereas once, candlelight and torches had been real.

Walking into a hall, Dean turned into the first room. “Is it cold for you? I’ll get the fire going,” he said, striding across the well-furnished large living room to the fireplace which was almost as tall as him. The firewood was neatly stacked in a basket. “Put your things down. Make yourself comfortable, we won’t be disturbed here,” he said. A sense of peace settled around him as he got the fire going and looked over his shoulder to see Sam exploring. 

It wasn’t quite cold enough to see his breath, but Sam was glad at the thought of a warm, roaring fire. A hot cup of coffee would be perfect, he thought, as he set his duffel on an antique chaise and began looking at the art on the wall and studying the exquisite woodworking of the old home. There wasn’t a bit of dust anywhere to be seen. Wandering over to the bookcase, he saw that the books ran the gamut of truly old classics like the Odyssey and Iliad, up to modern day best sellers. Many of the older books were bound in leather and he gingerly pulled one out. It was an illustrated manuscript and his jaw practically dropped open. He set the book on a nearby small table and slowly, carefully flipped through some of the pages of the book, marveling at the brilliant colors and gold leaf that decorated the pages.

He finally put the book up and glanced back at Dean. “A lot of old, expensive books. Is this your family estate?”

Dean stood up and leaned against the mantle, watching Sam closely. “It’s... our place. Yours and mine. We do have a tower, if you prefer to be locked up. It’s just... more of a lighthouse... in a different country.” 

“You know this is still really hard to get my head wrapped around,” Sam said, running his fingers over the wood of the bookcase and some of the old tomes sitting on the shelves. “Longest I ever lived anywhere was when I went to college. Never had anything bigger than the car, I mean that’s ever actually belonged to me. All my things, they fit in the trunk of the Impala. What I brought with me? That’s like one quarter of what I own, except for my hunter supplies and weapons.” He shook his head and looked around. “It’s like, I dunno, you keep telling me I won the lottery and I’m still not convinced I even bought a ticket.” 

“You did, win. That’s how you got here, to Romania, isn’t it.” That niggling in the back of Dean’s mind was back. “A raffle?” He brushed Sam’s mind and was startled by the confusion he felt. “I told you, we don’t have to live here. I haven’t for a very long time. We can live somewhere more conventional, or-- you’re freaking out, aren’t you? Don't. Please,” he whispered, willing Sam to listen to him.

Sam felt his concept of his world sort of unraveling as he looked around the room. He hadn’t even seen the rest of the house yet, but it was still overwhelming. Sam crossed over to Dean and gave him a light kiss. “Dude, this could be a rundown old shack on a beach and I’d still be freaking out. I’m not ready for this to be ‘ours’ yet, okay? It can’t be mine. I haven’t even… I don’t even know how many rooms the house has, or where the bathrooms are or-or-or _anything._ I get what you’re saying, I do, but I’m just not ready to hear it yet.” He hugged Dean to him and was content to just stand there near the fire, holding on to him and waiting for his world to begin to make a little sense again.

Enveloping Sam in his arms, Dean just held him for a long time. He kept wanting to speak, to tell Sam about the wonderful things he’d find in the manor house, all the exploring he could do, and about the tunnels. He wanted to tell him about the places they could go and the things they would see. But each time he opened his mouth to speak, he closed it again. He didn’t want to overwhelm Sam anymore. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Ivan hover in the doorway for a moment, and then disappear. 

“I have a feeling we’ll find the kitchen well-stocked.” It was always stocked, even if it was just for show. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Coffee. I’d really like some coffee,” Sam said quietly, but held tightly on to Dean, not letting him go anywhere. He liked very much having someone who could just _be there_ with him, that silence was okay to have between them. After a few more minutes Sam finally gave a soft sigh and released him. “I think my ears are burning. I should get the coffee going, then I better call Bobby back before he starts calling the embassies or something.”

Leaning in, Dean gave Sam a light kiss. He wanted more. A lot more. It was there in his eyes, and he knew Sam saw it. _Go ahead and say it. I’m showing remarkable restraint._ His lips quirked slightly even as he reluctantly pulled away.

Sam gave a nod and soft chuckle. “You are showing amazing restraint,” he said even as he grabbed Dean’s hand. “Lead me to the kitchen, good looking, so I can get my coffee started. The smell of it won’t bother you will it?”

“If I can take the stench of vampires and demons, I’ll survive your coffee.” Squeezing Sam’s hand, he tugged him toward the door and picked up Sam’s messenger bag as they left the room. “I’ve been assured we have wi-fi,” he said. The sooner they got the call over with, the happier he’d be. 

Turning a corner, he led Sam into the kitchen. Anticipating their needs, Ivan had already started a fire in the kitchen’s fireplace. A kettle sitting on the stove was already blowing steam. 

“Do you have like elves or something around here?” Sam asked, looking at the merrily dancing flames in the fireplace, the steam pouring from the kettle with just the hint of a whistle beginning. It took Sam a moment to recognize the ceramic pitcher with the strange top as being the coffee maker but when he lifted the lid, he saw there were dark coffee grounds already in it, ready for brewing. He slowly poured the hot water into the drip coffee maker and suddenly began laughing when he saw the small microwave nestled in the corner. “Okay, now I’m not sure I can call you Old World, since you have a microwave.”

He checked the icebox and found the milk was fresh inside. “Go ahead and pull out my computer,” he told Dean as he poured some milk into a jar and after shaking it vigorously for about thirty seconds, he put it in the microwave and turned the microwave on. “Cheap way to make the fancy lattes and stuff.” 

“Points for resourcefulness,” Dean said, though he doubted a few bubbles would make the milk taste any better than sawdust. He set the computer up and left it running on a counter, then checked the fridge. 

Pulling a glass bowl that was covered with plastic wrap out, he gave it a suspicion-filled look. “Do you want this... it says ‘bread pudding. Warm for forty seconds.’” he said, peeling off the little post it on it.

“Uhm, you don’t look like you trust it, exactly. I like good bread pudding. If you think it’s safe, yeah,” Sam said, pulling the frothy milk out when the microwave went off. He poured himself a cup of coffee, poured in some of the steaming milk, and spooned some of the froth on top of the coffee. He gave it a sip and smiled. “That’s good coffee.”

“I wouldn’t trust it if it was caviar.” Dean unwrapped it and brought it over. Placing it in the microwave, he turned to face Sam. “You have some...” He licked his own lips, exactly where some of the froth was sticking to Sam’s lips. So damned tempting. He gripped the counter with both hands, forcing himself to stay put.

Sam reached up to his lips and wiped away the milk. “Thanks. If you wouldn’t trust it, then, uh, maybe I shouldn’t eat it? I mean, if you don’t know who put it in there?”

Dean’s eyes tracked Sam’s hand as it brushed his lips, then remained focused on Sam’s mouth. He swallowed hard and gave a nod. “Yeah... maybe it’s best if you don’t put anything else in your mouth.”

The microwave gave a soft ‘ding’ and the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filled the room.

Sam glared at him. “You are so just messing with me. That cost you one of my best and hottest kisses. And if I can’t put anything else in my mouth, then that would include your tongue and possibly… other… _parts._ ”

“You’re the one messing with me.” Dean squeezed his eyes closed, but it didn’t help any. Not when he could smell Sam’s clean, tempting scent. When he could hear his blood rushing through his veins, and could _feel_ him standing only a few feet away. “Show me,” he said thickly, finally opening his eyes again. _What do you imagine putting into your mouth._

_After we’ve called Bobby, because if we start... And I have bread pudding to eat and coffee to drink first,_ he scolded Dean, but couldn’t help the thought of his mouth at Dean’s nipple, sucking on it and hearing Dean moan as his hands explored his body.

“Oh God, yes...” Dean groaned, having unconsciously burrowed into the surface of Sam’s mind and catching the flashed thought. He couldn’t help himself, he gave Sam an image of himself, skimming his mouth along Sam’s back, and over that sweet, hard ass of his. “I taste better than that bread pudding,” he promised, showing Sam a far more graphic image.

Sam sucked in a breath. “Stop that, Mouse,” Sam said, but felt himself shudder at the images coming from Dean. “Or I really will torture you with my very creative imagination. C’mon, let me eat my pudding, then call Bobby, _then_ we’ll see if we can’t come up with something to do the rest of the night.”

“Panther, not mouse.” Dean tried to clear his mind of his amorous thoughts. “No... really.” This time, he flashed a nice clean image of himself shifting to panther form and running through the forest.

_Mmm, here, kitty-kitty-kitty,_ Sam responded teasingly, “but I still like ‘mouse.’” He grinned at Dean and then rescued the bread pudding from the microwave. “Will I become a shapeshifter when you change me?” he asked, hunting for a spoon after he pulled the plastic film from the top of it. “Geez, that smells awesome.”

“Oh, _now_ that you found out about shifting, you’re not freaked out.” Dean chuckled. “You’re an adventurer, and this will be nothing short of an awesome adventure,” he said, pointing at Sam. “Most of us can shift, with practice. We all have our preferred forms.”

“Oh, I’m still one-hundred percent freaked out,” Sam said, pulling drawers open until he found a spoon which he extracted victoriously. He wasted no time digging into the pudding. “Mmm, tastes as good as it smells,” he said with his mouth half-full. “So why a panther instead of, I don’t know, a black stallion, or a big black wolf, or even, I dunno, an eagle? Though I don’t think there are black eagles,” he mused, half to himself. “I think they mixed liquor into the vanilla sauce. I approve,” he said, digging out another bite and wishing Dean could appreciate it with him. After a moment of consideration, he opened his mind up a bit, hoping Dean _could_ appreciate the taste of the bread pudding through him. 

“Mmm.... yeah... fuck...” Dean’s eyes glazed over as he thought of drinking from Sam. He’d be sweet and spicy, to him he’d taste just as good as the cinnamon vanilla Sam was enjoying so much. He took a step towards Sam, then another, his eyes moving back and forth from the delicate skin at the side of his neck to his sweet scarlet lips.

At first Sam thought maybe Dean was enjoying the scent and the flavor of the pudding as it was filtered through Sam’s senses, but saw Dean was focusing not on the bowl but on Sam’s neck. He closed off the part of his mind he’d opened to Dean. “No! Not until we’ve talked with Bobby!” Sam said, shaking the spoon at him, straightening up, and taking a step back. “Twenty minutes, max, Dude, I promise! But I am not calling Bobby and trying to hide your vampiric hickey!”

Reaching out, Dean grabbed Sam’s hips and dragged him close, turning slightly so his own back was to the counter. “I’ve already waited forever,” he rasped, his voice low and seductive. 

“Dean, please,” Sam begged, wishing he hadn’t opened his mind up to Dean. He needed to find out why demons and vampires were after him. He had a bad feeling he’d need the distraction of Dean’s caresses and kisses after they talked with Bobby.

Staring into Sam’s eyes for a long moment with all the longing he felt in his heart, Dean slowly released him. He ran his thumb across Sam’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment when a sliver of his thumb skimmed across the surface of Sam’s teeth. “You really shouldn’t be able to resist me so easily,” he said, partly disappointed, and partly admiring Sam’s strength. 

Dropping his hand, he walked clear across the room, to the other counter. His eyes still burned with heat, and he was fighting his nature, but trying to keep it from Sam.

“When there’s only one person left alive whose respect means the world to you, and you don’t want them to see you in a way that they won’t approve of...” Sam gave a half-hearted smile. “Especially when you know everything’s going to change? Forever? It’s almost easy to be strong for just a few minutes,” Sam said, turning away from Dean and looking into the bowl of pudding. He’d sort of lost his appetite. He rinsed off the spoon and grabbed the film and recovered it, sliding it back into the fridge. “Let’s call Bobby now.”

“No! I’m sorry.” Dean pulled his gaze away from Sam. “Eat. Please.”   
He ran his hand over his face, trying to maintain control. His lifemate needed him to show more restraint, and he would. 

“Nah. Besides, it’ll make part of an awesome breakfast. I really did kind of stuff myself at the restaurant waiting for the sun to set,” Sam said, walking over to Dean and taking his hand. “It just smelled really good. I had to try it, that’s all. C’mon, let’s get this call over with. Then you can kiss me. You know, like you really want to.” Sam tugged Dean over to a chair in front of the computer and pushed him into it, then pulled up a chair of his own. After pulling out his phone, he got the connection going and dialed Bobby.

“Hey Bobby,” Sam said, when Bobby answered on the fourth ring. “Sorry for the delay. Dean moved me to a safe house.”

Bobby made a disgruntled sound and pulled his cap off, slapping it down onto the table as he peered at the pair of them. “And you didn’t have a damned phone? Or is that not a vampire thing?” he demanded, his eyes full of reproach.

“I sent you an email! We’ve only been here long enough to make me a cup of coffee!” Sam said defensively. “Besides, I’m thinking I’m the one who’s got the right to be pissed off. You said you know why vamps and demons are after me. So spill, Bobby. Every last bit of information my dad gave you that he didn’t see fit to share with me.” His eyes flashed as he forced himself to try to stay calm. Wasn’t Bobby’s fault John Winchester was an ass.

Dean saw the flash of irritation in the older man’s eyes and put his hand on Sam’s arm, leaned forward, and spoke. “It would help if we knew what they wanted. Help us finish them now, rather than later.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of a doubt in Dean’s voice. Those who would hurt his lifemate would not live to see many more sunrises. 

Running his fingers through his thinning hair, Bobby shook his head. “I can’t say I know exactly why they decided you’re a prime target now,” he said, looking at Sam. “And I ain’t got no clue why a vampire got himself involved, less it has to do with _him,_ ” he said, clearly indicating Dean. “There ain’t nothing special going on now or even in the next month as far as I can see. No prophecies, nothing. But I’m still looking.”

“Bobby...” Sam growled, wanting him to just get to it already.

“Son,” Bobby said with a sigh, “yer daddy told me that your momma checked on you in your nursery. When he heard her scream, he ran upstairs. The shadow of man was there, a man with yellow eyes. Your   
momma was up on the ceiling, her belly cut open. John tried to get to you, but was pushed back to the doorway.”

Sam rested his hand on Dean’s and squeezed. This was not the story his father had told him.

“Yellow Eyes turned back to your crib, slit open his wrist, and… dripped blood into your mouth. The whole time your momma was screaming at the demon, telling him that wasn’t the deal, to leave you alone. Yellow Eyes told her she shouldn’t have interrupted him. Then she was in flames, Yellow Eyes was gone, and John grabbed you from the crib and ran out of the house. The upstairs windows blew out and… and turns out your momma was a hunter. She got out when her parents died and she married John. Ten years to the day she died.”

Sam sat in stunned silence.

Brushing Sam’s mind, Dean only sensed numbness. “That’s a lot to take in,” he said. He sensed something else, and pushed harder against Sam’s mind, trying to get deeper inside. When he did, his heart gave a start. “No,” he said, putting his hands on Sam’s shoulders and forcing him to look at him. “There is _nothing_ evil about you. I would have sensed it. Sam, don’t go there.”

“I’ve got demon blood in me! That’s probably why I’m psychic, why I see people die. Maybe they die because I see them die!” Sam snarled. Some pictures on the wall tumbled to the floor.

“Kid! You’re not evil! You think John didn’t check? He took you to every Hoo-doo priest, psychic, faith healer, gypsy, hell, just about anyone he could think of. They all said the same thing. Whatever the reason that demon was at your crib, giving you blood...” Bobby snapped his jaw shut and looked at Dean, then back at Sam. He looked away, but his face said plainly what was in his mind. He believed that the demon was preparing Sam to be taken by Dean.


	7. Chapter 7

“You think _I_ did this?” Dean scoffed at Bobby’s implied accusation. Pulling Sam into his arms, Dean looked directly into his eyes. “You’re jumping to a whole lot of conclusions. Maybe this Yellow Eyes chose you _because_ you’re psychic. Maybe… I don’t know anything about demons, but maybe it was some sort of marking or claiming ritual.” The instant the words were out of his mouth, the beast within him roared and snapped at him, urging him to make Sam his, to do it now, claim Sam and keep him safe.

Sam clung to Dean, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Several seconds passed before he pulled away and looked at Bobby on the computer screen. “Let me know if you find out anything else. I’ll Skype with you tomorrow, or send an email or something, okay?”

“Kid, no, wait I want--”

Sam closed the connection and shut the screen down. “Yeah, Bobby, I know what you want. You want me to come home.” He leaned against Dean. “Can you tell if something is… weird… with my blood if you taste it?” he asked quietly.

Dean brushed the hair back from Sam’s face, keeping one arm tightly wound around Sam’s waist. “There’s nothing weird with your blood. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect,” he said, “you couldn’t be more perfect, Sam. I swear it.”

“I bet you say that to all your lifemates,” Sam teased weakly. “Let’s… let’s move in by the fire in the den or sitting room or whatever it is. Then… then you can distract me however you want. Okay?” He closed his eyes briefly. Evil in him. Demon blood in him. Surely being made a vampire, a Carpathian, it couldn’t be any worse, could it? And Dean wasn’t evil. He was certain of that. So maybe… maybe it would be better. Maybe it would save him from becoming whatever the demon wanted him for. Whatever deal cost his mother her life.

“You know, you can see yourself through my eyes. Taste yourself. I can show you how perfect you really are,” Dean answered, stroking Sam’s face, feeling his pain. Wanting it gone. “Let me help you, baby, please,” he said, brushing his mouth over Sam’s as he pulled him slowly toward the door.

Sam shook his head. “I’m not perfect. Even if I’m your lifemate, that doesn’t make me perfect. That just makes me… super sexy,” he said in between Dean’s light kisses, trying to forget the things Bobby had said but the words ran around and around and around in his mind. He let Dean lead him through the door and back to the first room they’d been in. The fire had turned the room comfortably warm. Looking at Dean, Sam pulled away, taking a step back. In one swift movement, he pulled his shirt off. “Your turn,” he said, licking his lips, ready to give in to the feelings he’d been fighting for what felt like weeks.

“You’re wrong,” Dean said, letting his gaze travel slowly down and up Sam’s chiseled body. “Not only super sexy. Perfect.” He could have willed his own shirt away, but instead, he tugged it up over his head and tossed it onto a chair.

Their eyes locked again. 

Dean burned like an inferno. His world, his whole focus, became his lifemate. He put his hand out, willing Sam to come to him. To be one with him. 

Sam’s power of resistance against Dean was gone. Just gone. He had no reason to fight it. He remembered how alone he had felt when Dean had slept during the daylight hours, how he had constantly reached for Dean with his mind, how it felt like a black hole had formed inside him. He’d been alone all his life. There had been moments when he hadn’t, but they’d been oh so brief. He didn’t feel alone with Dean here. Even when he’d been with his boyfriend at college, it still hadn’t felt the way it felt with Dean now. It hadn’t felt… _perfect._

With only a moment of hesitation, Sam let Dean’s will rule him and reached out his own hand to Dean. He closed the distance between them and stared down into Dean’s eyes. “Bet you didn’t expect to be _shorter_ than your lifemate,” Sam said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Dean gave him a stern glare. “I’m way too old to pull out a ruler and check.” As he closed his arms around Sam and pulled him up hard against his frame, so every inch of their bodies touched, he mentally added, _but I do have the extra inches where it counts._

It had been a long, long time since Dean had made jokes or laughed. Or found humor in anything. And this man, his lifemate had brought it to him, and he was never letting Sam go. 

Sam laughed. “How do you know I haven’t got extra inches down there too, hmm? Taller _and_ longer. You did say I was perfect, after all.” Sam slowly ran his hands over Dean’s back. “No scars. Your back is as smooth as the day you were born. I have more scars than I can count. I invented really good stories about each and every one of them, too.” His hands drifted lower, gently squeezing Dean’s ass cheeks. “You know, I think you’re the perfect one.”

“Not gonna argue, or turn down a compliment.” Dean’s entire body reacted to Sam’s touches, his muscles tightening, his heart banging against his chest. His eyes blazed with the same heat as the fire burning across the room. He dipped his head down, ghosting his mouth along the side of Sam’s neck and drawing his intoxicating scent in with every breath. “I will _never_ get enough of you,” he vowed, slowly walking backwards toward the thick carpet in front of the fireplace. 

“That must be the reason I’m bigger than you. Because of your appetite,” Sam said, letting Dean lead him. Shivers of pleasure shot through him as he felt Dean’s breath at his neck, He blew in Dean’s ear and when Dean turned his head, Sam captured his lips, coaxing Dean’s tongue into his mouth and waging a war with it. His hands roved more freely across Dean’s backside, squeezing and massaging and caressing as his own heart began to pound harder and harder. 

As their tongues battled and danced, they pushed and pulled their way to the fireplace. By the time Dean broke the kiss, he was so hard, it hurt. He ran his hands up and down Sam’s sides, dipping his head and kissing his throat. “I can hear your heart. It’s driving me crazy,” Dean admitted, allowing Sam to get a flash of how erotic the sound was to him. 

His hands dropped down to the front of Sam’s jeans. He moved his mouth lower, kissing Sam’s chest, and scraping his razor-sharp fangs lightly across his skin. It was pure torture. Sam was his torture and his salvation. 

Sam gave Dean back the image of him sucking on Dean’s nipple as he ran his fingers through Dean’s silky hair. The feel of the sharp fangs made him shudder. Taking in a deep breath, Dean’s exotic scent mixed with the hint of burning wood in the fireplace, the lingering scent of coffee, and sweet cinnamon. “You smell good,” he declared even as his own arousal grew harder and harder. Every brush of Dean’s fingers at his pants elicited a soft groan from him. “You’re killing me,” he whispered, pressing his hips harder against Dean’s too light touch.

“If you’re trying to provoke me...” Dean scraped his teeth a little harder over Sam’s chest, close to his nipple, then laved his tongue over the spot. _It’s working._ As he slowly sank to his knees, he kept kissing and licking his way down to Sam’s stomach. Suddenly pulling away, he started to really undo Sam’s pants, his hunger rising as he drew in Sam’s musky scent. 

Sam didn’t want Dean to stop and made a sound of complaint, at least until Dean opened his jeans. Letting his head fall back a little, he closed his eyes, feeling every breath of Dean’s that whispered over his flesh, every teasing touch of his tongue, every silken touch of his lips. _That’s not provoking. This is provoking,_ Sam answered as he pictured Dean taking him out, his hand wrapping around his painfully hard cock, and running his tongue over the tip and crown before sucking it all the way into his mouth.

Dean suddenly closed his arms around the back of Sam’s thighs, dragging him close as he moved his mouth down from Sam’s rock-hard abs to below his waistband, his chin shoving and dragging the material of Sam’s short down until it bunched around his chin. Dean licked across Sam’s thick shaft, then made every stitch of Sam’s clothing disappear.

Rocking back, Dean let his heated gaze rove up Sam’s body before taking his cock into his hand and lustily licking and sucking its tip. He looked up, eyes locking with Sam’s. _Mind merge with me. Let me show you how you taste,_ he half-pleaded, half-commanded.

Sam’s eyes practically crossed as Dean’s mouth worked him. _You expect… unghh… me… nghh… holy crap… unh… anything… with you doing… fuuuuck..._ Sam couldn’t begin to concentrate enough to drop his protections while Dean sucked and licked. His hands drifted to Dean’s shoulders, his fingers digging in every time Dean sucked on his tip. 

_So stubborn._ Even if Sam wouldn’t merge with his mind, Dean was in the surface of Sam’s mind. Each time he licked or sucked on him, he knew how Sam felt, what he wanted … needed. Sometimes he gave it to him, squeezing him harder and sucking more of him into his mouth. Sometimes he pulled back and just teased with his tongue, winding Sam up a little tighter. And sometimes, he messed with him, sharing images of them making love in front of the fire. Giving him glimpses of how he’d take him, sometimes slow and tender, sometimes hard and furious, claiming him with every thrust of his hips, but always, always putting Sam first.

“Yer still killin’ me,” Sam muttered in between groans. It was an effort to concentrate with Dean’s teasing ways distracting him but he finally managed to show Dean what he wanted. He wanted to be laid back in front of the fire, then he wanted Dean to kiss him and caress him, keeping him hard and hungry for Dean’s touch. Then he wanted Dean to take him.

As Sam made his desires known to him, Dean gave a deep moan that vibrated around Sam’s dick and then moaned again as Sam’s reaction echoed through him. He didn’t relent, didn’t pull him down just yet. Instead, he sucked harder, swallowing him down deep into his throat. _Fuck my mouth. I don’t need to breathe,_ Dean reminded Sam, sliding one hand up Sam’s body to grip his hip.

 _Don’t need to...wha...?_ Sam’s mind was all but incoherent, lost in the pleasure Dean was giving to him. It had been so long since he’d had a lover, he felt almost hypersensitive. It took Sam a few moments to gain control over himself and he finally began to thrust. Even knowing Dean didn’t need to breathe, he still didn’t want to choke him or be anything but careful. So he went slowly, learning how deeply Dean seemed able to take him comfortably… which was deeper than he could have imagined.

Loving all the sensations roiling from Sam, Dean gave him all he had. More vacuum action, more pressure, more vibration. Sam’s pleasure was his own. That meant Sam’s torture was also his own. So they swung between immeasurable pleasure and aching, torturous need. It went on and on until Dean was sure neither of them could take this any longer and pulled his mouth off Sam’s dick. 

The beast inside him gave a clamoring roar. Dean fought it, mentally counting to five to give Sam a chance to catch his breath. Then he reached up again, this time pulling Sam down, rocking back and holding him across his lap. His own clothes disappeared and his arousal pressed against Sam’s bare ass.

Dean closed his arms around Sam and slanted his mouth over Sam’s. His kiss was hot and fierce, full of need, love and lust. He felt Sam squirm and knew exactly where he wanted Dean to put his hand. Dean wanted it, too. He mentally showed Sam exactly how much he wanted to wrap his hand around Sam’s cock and pump him as they kissed. But he kept his arms firmly around Sam, sometimes moving one hand to support the back of his head.

It took restraint on Sam’s part not to just shove Dean back, to slide down onto Dean’s cock and ride him. He wasn’t prepared, wasn’t lubed, and knew it was just a fantasy at the moment, but it was in his mind all the same. Sam desperately wanted pressure on his cock, but that was part of the game, part of the torment that brought pleasure. Kissing Dean back as hungrily as Dean kissed him, he held Dean tightly. Something burned inside Sam, something hot and desperate for Dean, needing his presence and touch in ways Sam had never imagined he could need anyone. It took effort, but slowly Sam began to open his mind up more so Dean could dig deeper inside.

Dean didn’t ask Sam to merge with his mind again, but he sank into Sam’s mind as far as he could go. The only way they could be closer was if Sam returned the favor and moved into Dean’s mind.

Sifting through Sam’s thoughts and feelings, learning that although his lifemate had been with others, he’d always felt alone, Dean broke the kiss. “This is forever. There’s no you, there’s no me, there is only us,” he vowed. “I will _always_ be there for you. When you want me, when you need me.” _Maybe sometime when you don’t,_ he admitted. 

He caressed Sam’s thighs, his hand moving closer and closer to Sam’s aching cock. Dean was just as painfully hard. As he teased Sam, he dipped his head down and sucked on his nipple. _You did say you want me to keep you hard._

 _I’m going to have to keep my imagination under control around you,_ Sam answered a little ruefully, arching as Dean teased his nipple. Dean’s promises of ‘forever’ were wonderful words but he’d believed too many things were ‘forever’ things, only to find out they were but fragile delusions and easily shattered. “I can’t ask for forever. I can’t believe in forever. I can only believe in the right now.” Tentatively Sam began to investigate Dean’s mind. He didn’t have the finesse Dean had. He was always more concerned with trying to keep everyone out of his head, and had not tried to get into the heads of others. One brief glimpse into the mind of a wendigo and he hadn’t slept without nightmares for months. 

_Then all my ‘right nows,’ up through forever, are yours._ Dean answered. Sensing Sam delicately sifting through the surface of his mind, Dean felt a tremendous surge of heat, of the need to fully merge with his lifemate in every possible way. He didn’t hide the terrible ache, the fury with which he needed Sam. But he also showed him the iron control he was exerting over that side of him, for one reason only. He could not... would not... hurt his lifemate.

 _Dean, I don’t know how to do this. I feel you need me but I don’t know how to do it. I barely have any control over it, other than building walls to protect myself. I’m not being stubborn, though maybe I am a little--a lot nervous. Help me,_ Sam begged, struggling to figure out how to do what Dean was doing so effortlessly.

 _Let yourself go. Sink into me, into my mind. Let your curiosity draw you in. Don’t you want to know whether I’m ‘really’ a virgin?_ It was a credit to him that he was able to inject humor into the moment, when all he really wanted to do was to claim Sam, body and soul. To make it irreversible, to secure their future together.

 _You already told me you weren’t,_ Sam said. Curiosity, that he had plenty of. He put his hands over Dean’s. _Stop for ten seconds if you want me to be able to do this,_ he told him, trying to focus, feeling like he was supposed to walk and chew bubblegum at the same time while singing the hokey-pokey or something. Dean finally stopped moving. Sam wriggled on Dean’s lap and bent his head down to capture Dean’s lips in a gentle kiss as his mind struggled to work its way deeper. When he tried to simply let himself go, panic tended to rear its head. _Show me things that will make me want to dig deeper,_ Sam said, interlocking his fingers with Dean.

 _And here I thought you were already into me,_ Dean teased, keeping his kisses light and only holding Sam, instead of exploring his body the way he wanted. He mentally went back in time, thousands of years, to when Carpathia was mostly covered in vegetation and forests almost as thick as the jungles of the Amazon. He showed himself to Sam, when he’d been but a ten-year-old kid, hiding behind a tree, then weaving through them as he ran away from Sam. Sometimes he taunted him, laughed, and disappeared again.

Sam couldn’t help smiling. Dean seemed to know exactly how to intrigue him. Sam chased after the kid, imagining himself the same age. Exploring the forest without worry. This wasn’t the forests of his youth with monsters lurking behind every immense tree, or so his father would have insisted. He was safe here with Dean. _You’ve lived for so long, yet your memory of being a child is so clear. Show me more of you and Carpathia._ Sam insisted, digging in deeper even as he inadvertently intensified his kiss.

“Mmm...” A low moan erupted from Dean. _You’re going to have to stop for ten seconds,_ he teased, fully capable of loving Sam and giving him a mind tour at the same time. 

Young Dean reached the edge of a gorge, looked back, and then with a single push, jumped clear across it. “Follow me,” he yelled. “Come on, do it. Don’t be scared.” _Of this either,_ Dean added, speaking over the mental image as he started to run his hands over Sam’s body again. 

Young Sam watched Dean make an impossible leap and licked his lips nervously. It wasn’t real, so he couldn’t really fall to his death or anything, right? He backed up a handful of steps and, staring at Dean standing on the other side of the chasm, began to run and pushed off of the edge. It was just like flying, just like flying, Sam repeated to himself over and over, but his mind simply wouldn’t accept the possibility and he began to fall. “Dean!” he cried out as the wind whipped around his body.

Jumping back, young Dean caught young Sam’s hands and raised them. “Up up and away, right?” Laughing, he catapulted them up high into the sky, then releasing one of Sam’s hands, flipped them, so they were flying horizontally, over the tops of giant trees, craggy mountains, and steaming hot springs.

Relief washed through Sam as Dean rescued him and then they were flying, and it reminded him of that classic Superman scene with Superman and Lois holding hands and flying. Of course when she let go, she started to drop like a rock so Sam made sure Dean wasn’t letting go. “Show me more!” Sam said, willing himself to trust and dive deeper into Dean’s mind. It was so open, he barely knew which way to turn and was content to let Dean lead him.

“Do you like fire?” Dean asked, but before Sam answered him, he whisked him away, and then they were watching a volcano erupt. The lava boiled and bubbled as it rolled down the sides of the mountain. “Want to see it at night?” And then they saw the powerful glow of the lava in the pitch black.

Dean abruptly broke the kiss. The vision in Sam’s mind changed just as abruptly. They were themselves, in a meadow of tall, soft grass, rolling over each other in it and making out. _That wasn’t me. It’s your mind going there,_ Dean quickly said, focusing on Sam and running his hand down his chest and abs, lightly brushing over his still hard cock. His eyes darkened. His teeth elongated inside his mouth as his need rose again.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said a little sheepishly, but making a soft needful sound when he felt Dean’s hand caress his dick. He looked into Dean’s eyes and swallowing hard, gave a nod. “You’d started to give me wedding vows for Carpathians. What… what do I need to say? To make it the way you want it. And for the record, I do expect a ring.” A smile curved his lips but he couldn’t deny he was still nervous and scared as hell.

“Is that a ‘yes?’” Dean asked, his eyes blazing with the heat of the volcano he’d shown Sam.

Sam licked his lips and stared into the depths of Dean’s eyes. Swallowing hard he gave a sharp nod. “Yes. I’ll marry you or be your lifemate or whatever is the way to say it. Just promise me we’re in it together. I’m not some fragile better half that you’re going to lock away in a tower or something. We’re equals in this, barring my learning curve. And you swear neither of us have to take lives to, ah, eat. Right?”

Sam’s ‘yes’ roused the beast inside Dean. Though he tried to listen to his babbling lifemate, Dean reached his limits. “You’re my light. I could never cause you misery by making you my prisoner or by turning you into a monster. Our minds are merged, find the truth,” he said.

Lifting Sam off his lap, Dean shifted around, so Sam was laying on the soft carpet, his legs bracketing Dean’s sides as Dean partly kneeled between Sam’s legs. His hot gaze roved over every inch of Sam. “I could not want you more, and I will never want you less,” he vowed, sliding his hands up and down Sam’s chest and abs, over every chiseled plane, then dipping his head to lick across Sam’s sensitive nipple.

Sam loved the way Dean touched him, so gently, yet so possessively. The images in Dean’s mind were nearly overwhelming. Thousands of years of memories was more than his mortal mind was ready to try to deal with. He arched and his hand went to the back of Dean’s head, holding him there at his nipple. His eyes fluttered closed and he just simply _felt._ Dean’s touches, the wet slide of his tongue, the hot moist breath that Dean didn’t actually need. He wrapped his legs around Dean, locking his ankles behind Dean’s thighs. _You make me feel whole._

 _You are my other half._ Dean licked and teased Sam’s nipple, his hands roving over Sam, over every inch of taut flesh stretched over muscle. The need, the desire to claim Sam, grew stronger and more demanding. His movements became a little rougher and less controlled, but he exercised his iron will, determined to give Sam exactly what he’d asked for.

Walking through Sam’s mind, he learned exactly how Sam wanted to be touched and kissed. Groaning at his lifemate’s needs, Dean closed his hand around Sam’s dick, and stroked it increasingly faster as he kissed Sam senseless. 

Sam, knowing that Dean was sifting through his mind, tried to do the same, tried to find what drove Dean. He ran his fingers lightly up and down Dean’s back, squeezing his ass now and again, even as he found his hips giving small thrusts as sounds spilled from his throat into Dean’s mouth. The man could kiss! As he dug deeper into Dean’s mind, searching for what Dean wanted from him, that was when he came face-to-face with the beast and he practically froze. _Dean?_ he asked tentatively. 

Dean reared his head back and locked gazes with Sam. “It’s my hunger. My need. Don’t be afraid, it is what drives me to protect you,” he said, fighting the beast’s needs to make sure Sam could see beyond it.

Sam hesitated a moment, then gave a nod. “I trust you. I’ll trust it soon enough, I’m sure.” He couldn’t deny it was just one more thing about this that scared him, but he refused to let the fear rule him. He wanted to be with Dean. Whatever that meant, whatever that cost, he’d accept it and the consequences that went with it. He gave a Dean smile. “You’ve waited forever for me. I don’t break. I want us joined. I’m ready.”

Dean leaned over Sam, his hands flat on the thick rug, on either side of Sam’s shoulders. He kissed him softly, then whispered in a velvety voice, “it was worth the wait. There’s no other for me.” He shifted slightly, lining his hard cock up against Sam’s hole. Seeing Sam’s lips part to ask him a question, Dean answered. “It’s lube. I can do more than undress you with a thought.”

Sam gave a soft, low chuckle and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I look forward to learning everything you can do with just a thought.” He gave a gentle kiss to Dean then nodded.

“Sam Winchester,” Dean said formally, his expression intense and serious. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours.” Lowering his head, he nuzzled Sam’s throat, and continued speaking in English, so his lifemate would understand the words. “Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time.” Raising up, he pushed against Sam’s entrance, his mind swimming with thoughts of taking Sam. “You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care,” he practically growled, his control slipping just a little. “You’re mine,” the beast whispered, just as Dean thrust his hips, burying his cock inside his lifemate, mentally soothing him, protecting him from all pain.

Sam felt the words practically reverberate through every molecule. In one way it was as if raw nerves were suddenly healed, in another, it felt as if his mind, his soul, became entangled with Dean’s. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. He felt Dean breach him and expected the pain, startled a bit when Dean didn’t ease in but buried himself fully in Sam. He gave a soft groan. It didn’t hurt, but to be so full so suddenly was more a surprise than anything. He arched up, his legs pulling Dean in deeper. Practically panting, he looked up into the dazzling green eyes of his lover. He didn’t remember everything verbatim but he did his best.

“Dean, I claim you as my lifemate. You belong to me. I give you my life, my protection, my loyalty, my love, everything that I am. I accept what you offer me and will keep your love and heart and life safe. You are my lifemate, we are bound forever as one,” Sam said then added. “And you’re mine, too.” He pulled Dean into a kiss to seal his promises to the man.

 _From the moment you saw me._ There was a smirk in Dean’s mental voice, as he kissed Sam back. This time, there was nothing soft about his kiss. This time, he was claiming Sam as his for all time, and it was there in the fierceness of his kiss, and in the way he half-lifted Sam up off the ground to meet his thrusts, and in the way he touched and held him.

Sam gave back as good as he got, or at least, he tried to, being only human and not Carpathian. _And I’m just damned irresistible,_ Sam said, _and hey, need to breathe,_ he added, breaking their kisses long enough to drag in gasps of air. His body sweated with the exertion but he had never felt anything like being with Dean and didn’t want it to end. The firestorm inside blazed brighter and brighter as his cries of pleasure echoed in the room.

As Dean pistoned his hips, he sifted through Sam’s thoughts to enable himself to pleasure him exactly how he wanted and needed it. Then he opened his mind up, drawing Sam into his thoughts, sharing with him exactly how he was feeling. His reactions to Sam’s scent. The heat flooding his system each time he pushed inside Sam’s tight sheath and each time Sam clenched around him. He showed him how wildly his heart was beating and how much he was straining to keep from going too fast. “You were born for me,” he rasped, kissing Sam again, and again.

“I never knew how empty I was,” Sam murmured back, letting himself tumble into Dean’s thoughts, trying to take it all in even though his mind struggled with the overwhelming passion and heat he felt in Dean. He tried hard to touch Dean in ways to make it better for him but there was just so much in Dean’s mind. And then he sensed it, practically thirsted for it himself. The way Dean needed to drink, to taste his blood. “Do it,” he urged, knowing how close he was to coming himself, and feeling Dean was likewise close to the edge.

Sam’s words reverberated in Dean’s mind, every inch of his body reacting to the invitation. Without ever fully pulling out of Sam, he shifted their positions, so he sat straight up, with Sam straddling him, riding him. Raising his hand behind Sam’s head, he drew him down for a hard kiss. Mentally, he started to whisper the Carpathian binding vows again, this time in his native tongue. His blood warmed and thickened, pounding at his temples, as burned with his need for Sam.

Sam could hear the foreign words, and sensed they meant much the same as the vows he had already exchanged with Dean. He rode Dean harder, feeling the way the heat coiled inside Dean, inside himself. Suddenly his balls tightened and he clenched down on Dean’s cock, the muscles pulsing then as his white cum exploded from him and he screamed Dean’s name.

Sam’s call sent a flash of intense, blinding pleasure through Dean. He reared his head back, brandishing his elongated fangs for a split second, before he buried them in Sam’s chest, just above his nipple. He held Sam tight, brushing his mind over and over, soothing him as he drank his life blood, so sweet and spicy, just like his lifemate. _I know it’s foreign to you, but taste yourself through me. You’ll understand,_ Dean offered, fully melding his mind with Sam’s and giving a final hard thrust that sent him clear over the edge, red hot currents spasming through him as he came.

Sam hadn’t expected the bite to his chest, rather anticipating it to be at his neck. It felt strange and more erotic than he could have imagined. He tried to sift through all of Dean’s sensations until he tasted what Dean tasted. It was like the finest of wines, the strongest of top shelf whiskey, filet mignon seasoned and cooked to perfection. It was the sweetest corn on the cob, the best chocolate cake… it was all of this and more, tasting wild and rich and simply amazing. “Oh, God, I think I could come all over again,” Sam gasped, gently holding Dean’s head to his chest even as he felt his life force slowly draining out of him.

 _Do it._ The silky soft response was nothing short of a command, coupled with erotic images pushing Sam to come again. 

Sam had been joking, or so he’d thought, until his mind was filled with images that made him blush. His cock had barely started to soften and, with Dean’s prodding, the blood rushed to engorge it. Sam gave a small cry as the images, the tastes, the desire filled him to overflowing, and suddenly, he was coming again, his body shaking with the violence of the spasms of pleasure.

As Sam came apart in his arms, Dean ran his hands over every inch of his body, holding him close and unwilling to release him. Only when they were both completely spent did he lift his head and run his tongue over the pin prick marks he’d made with his teeth, the healing element in his tongue immediately closing the wounds on Sam’s chest.

He tipped his head back and looked into Sam’s beautiful face. “I love you,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

“I bet you say that to all your husbands,” Sam managed to tease, his eyes half-closed already. “Love you, too. Mmm, magic a blanket over us. I don’t think I can move,” he mumbled.

“Your wish... my command.” Within a matter of moments, they were curled up in front of the fire with pillows under their heads and a blanket over them. Dean kissed the side of Sam’s neck, then scraped his teeth across his vein. “Next time,” he promised, smiling slightly.

“You can bite me anywhere you want,” Sam yawned sleepily. “Almost anywhere,” he amended, rolling back against Dean and snuggling up with him. “Gimme a half-hour. I’ll be ready to go again,” he said, the last of his words slurring as he drifted off to sleep.

“Almost unbreakable. I remember,” Dean mumbled, closing his own eyes. He couldn’t resist flashing an image of them going again into Sam’s mind, and chuckled as he felt Sam squirm. “Half hour.”

* * * 

Sam slowly roused trying to place where the hell he was. The mattress was king-sized, the sheets a warm fleece with a thick cranberry duvet layered over it, covering him. The headboard was intricately carved dark wood, representing trees and wildlife down to the finest of details. A crystal chandelier hung near the foot of the bed. He found himself in fine dark blue flannel pajamas edged in gold. Thick blue velvet curtains hung closed over massive windows, or at least, Sam assumed they were windows.

He still didn’t recognize the place, but figured he was likely still in Dean’s house. _Their_ house, he corrected himself, but it felt more than a little strange to think of it that way. There was a fireplace across from the bed, coal and wood still showing small fingers of flames, but mostly just consisting of red, glowing embers. He slowly sat up and ran his fingers through his hair and gave a loud yawn. He felt exhausted yet also well rested. And just a little bit sore. Dean had roused him a couple times and the sex was more than just awesome, though Dean didn’t drink from him again. Still, he hadn’t been that _active_ in a long time, and some muscles made note of that fact.

Now that he was semi-awake, he reached for Dean. Getting no response, he realized Dean was in a deep sleep.

Looking over the edge of the bed, Sam saw slippers and slid his feet into them and slipped on the robe laying over a nearby chair. He hadn’t had any chance to explore the house, but he hadn’t much more than opened the door when delicious smells of food wafted in. He followed his nose to the kitchen and found a woman hard at work, making omelets and some sort of corn mush with milk and sour cream and other things. Ham was also cooking on the griddle and vegetables and cheese were mixed into the omelet.

“Good morning,” Sam said quietly.

The woman jumped a little and whirled, then began talking to him rapidly in Romanian, though he got the distinct feeling he was getting a scolding for scaring her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak much Romanian. _Boo-nah Zee-wah._ ” Sam said carefully, hoping he didn’t mangle it too badly. It meant good day, because honestly, he had no idea what time it was.

“Good day, yes,” she said, her accent thick. “Sit.” She pointed at the stove. “Almost cook. O-range juice. Drink, drink,” she said, pouring Sam a tall glass. “So happy Sam here. You, very… pretty.”

Sam smiled but felt himself blushing. “Handsome.” He pointed to himself. “Handsome,” then pointed to the woman, “Pretty.”

“Hand-some. Yes, yes. Handsome, and pretty,” she said, smiling broadly at him and returning to the stove.


	8. Chapter 8

Ivan walked in and Sam felt a bit of relief at seeing a familiar face. 

Ivan nodded at Sam, stopping to speak with his wife for a moment. Words rapidly flew between them, and then he walked over to Sam, hanging his head and shaking it dramatically. “Apparently I got your eye color wrong. Forest green, not brown. And I missed a few details. We weren’t expecting you yet.” He’d checked the house the evening before and had known Dean had returned, but the pair of them were to have done more touring before they arrived at the house.

“Yeah. I was attacked and Dean wanted me someplace safer. Not that I really had a whole lot of say in the matter,” Sam said wryly. “Maybe there are some places around here I can explore?” he asked hopefully. “And tell your wife my eyes are hazel. They kinda tend to change color depending on my mood. Oh, and the bread pudding was great, I’ll finish it with dinner. Thanks so much for everything you’re doing.”

“Attacked... when, how?” Ivan asked, his brow furrowing deeply. “Are you injured?” he demanded, “Dean...”

“I’m fine and so’s Dean. Demons attacked. Well, people possessed by demons. I exorcised them and sent them back to hell, but we were actually attacked twice. First on the train, by a vampire, and then in the hotel room by demons… and it looks like something is after me. Dean felt I’d be safest here. I’m guessing whoever or whatever is after me won’t know where I am now, but a hex bag might be a good idea. Don’t know if hex bags work against vampires though.” Sam gave a shrug. “I’m usually the hunter. Not so much fun being the hunted,” he said ruefully. “Is the coffee ready?”

“Maria...” Before Ivan inquired, she brought a cup and saucer over to the table and set it down. She also brought over the cream and sugar, then asked, “you want eat here, in garden, or in room?”

“Garden? Yeah! The garden would be great, if....” He looked down at his pajamas and robe. “It’s not likely anyone will be dropping by is it? I mean should I get dressed? Is this warm enough for outside?”

“Is warm and beautiful day. Perfect... no, no, I will bring coffee,” she said, seeing Sam prepare to pick up the cup. Bringing a tray over, she loaded it up with a small pot of coffee, the cup she’d already poured and cream and sugar. As she got plates and utensils, Ivan moved into the kitchen and loaded another tray, this time with covered breakfast entrees.

“This way,” she said, giving Sam a smile, then commenting to Ivan in her native tongue, and it was clear she was talking about Sam.

Ivan laughed. “My wife says she understands why the master ... Dean … fell for you. And she really likes your dimples--”

Maria snapped at him and he laughed. “She says there is a _reason_ she didn’t speak her thoughts in English.” He motioned for Sam to follow her.

Grasping a door handle, Maria pushed the French doors open and stepped out onto the large veranda that had stairs leading to the gardens. She set her tray down on the table at the edge of the veranda, overlooking a small fishpond. 

Ivan did the same and as his wife set the table, he repositioned an umbrella to give Sam some shade. “When you’re done with breakfast, you might want to walk the grounds. At the end of the rose garden you will see a path. If you take it to the left, you will find the fruit trees. To the right are the flower gardens followed by the swimming pools, which are also accessible more directly from the other side of the house.”

Sam’s mouth fell open as he looked out at the gardens. The landscaping in the front of the house had seemed sparse, but back here it was stunning. “Rose gardens? Swimming pools? Fruit trees? This is all pretty surreal,” he said with a shake of his head. “My home was a car and cheap motels. I don’t think I’ve ever owned more than six or seven shirts, three jeans, and two pair of shoes. This is just… wow. Yeah, I’ll eat, then I think I’ll shower and get dressed and explore this place a little. You two can join me for breakfast if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind. I have things to do,” Ivan answered as his wife brought a USA Today to the table. “If you want any other papers, you let me know. I will order for you.” 

“Thanks. This is fine,” Sam said, a little disappointed they weren’t going to keep him company. 

Giving Sam a nod, and helping Maria grab a few items, Ivan followed her inside the house.

Sam took a sip of coffee and then began digging into his breakfast. _You just resting and awake, sleeping beauty?_ Sam sent softly, not wanting to disturb Dean if he was asleep. 

Dean had woken with a smile on his face but hadn’t been inclined to follow after Sam just yet. _I haven’t slept this well above ground in... well, forever._ Rolling over onto his stomach, he pulled Sam’s pillow close and breathed in his lifemate’s scent. _You’re going to turn my days into nights, aren’t you?_ he asked, still a little groggy.

_Sleeping below ground, that just sounds claustrophobic. I’m eating breakfast out in the garden._ He sent Dean images of the beauty of the garden, the smells of the outdoors, and how much he was enjoying just sitting there in the shade of the umbrella looking out over the grounds. _I don’t even remember you moving us to the bed._

_But you do remember the stairs._ Dean smirked, _I will never pass the landing without thinking of that._ Stretching, he sat up and got off the bed, instinctively merging his mind with Sam’s so that it felt as if there was no distance between them. 

The images of them making it part way up the stairs only to stop on the landing and have another go around of hot and heavy sex had color rushing to Sam’s cheeks. _Uh, yeah, I do remember that now._ He felt the sudden closeness with Dean and some part of his soul seemed to relax. _So are we near to where your prince lives?_

_A blink of an eye if we fly, or forty-five minutes by car. But he is not in residence._ Standing at the window, and only able to do so because of the special glass that filtered out the UV rays, Dean watched Sam take a sip of his coffee, then lick his lips. Just the quick glimpse of his tongue made Dean’s blood grow warm. A single thought dissolved the robe that Sam was wearing. _How about you undo your shirt,_ he suggested, his voice going down an octave. 

“Hey!” Sam proclaimed. _Stop that, jerk! And no, I’m not going to open up my pajama shirt until after I’m done eating. Otherwise, I’ll never get it eaten while it’s still hot. I know all about you and your wily, lusty ways. Behave._ Sam looked up; the glass shone with blueish gleam. Dean was standing at the window, looking down at him. Sam waved then shook a finger at him in warning.

_My lusty ways? You must have selective memories of last night. I’m just gonna have to fill in the blanks._ Practically leering, Dean mentally sent Sam images of Sam clinging to him, dragging him to the ground, and demanding more. _You’re everything I need,_ he said, his own senses reeling at the memories. 

_Oh, shut up. You’re addictive is what you are,_ Sam groused and ate more of his breakfast, picking up the pace a little since Dean was up. Between the images Dean sent him and his own fantasies, his body was already perking up with its own ideas. 

_No more than you._ Concentrating, Dean wove an image for Sam, making sure it felt very, very real. That Sam could feel him sitting right behind Sam on the same chair, his legs bracketing the outsides of Sam’s thighs and his chest and groin pressing up against Sam’s back and ass. His scent surrounded Sam. He softly blew across Sam’s ear, and then nuzzled it. 

Sam dropped the fork as his lower brain kicked in and his eyes practically crossed. “How did you...?” Sam began, but then realized Dean wasn’t actually in the chair under him but rather that Dean was still looking down at him from the window. _Grade-A Shit. That’s what you are. If you behave yourself, when I finish breakfast, I’ll come up and we can get a shower together. Otherwise? I’m going to take my breakfast out and sit by the swimming pool._ Sam said, his erection partially tenting his pajama bottoms. He shifted a little and picked up the fork again.

_Alright._ Dean amicably agreed, though he didn’t withdraw the image, instead letting Sam feel his hand moving up Sam’s thigh. Burrowing a little deeper into Sam’s mind, his breath came out in a hiss as he felt Sam’s reactions.

Sam could feel the heat of Dean’s hand on his thigh and the way he rubbed it just perfectly. He gave a small groan as Dean’s hand drifted closer to his groin. Even just the brush across fabric seemed to make his pants move, placing a whisper of pressure on his tip. His head fell back a little, resting against what felt like Dean’s shoulder. _You don’t listen very well, do you?_ Sam said.

Just as he was about to ask for more like Dean always seemed to make him able to, Maria reappeared.

“How is your coffee? Is good? Need more? Or bread or jam? Is all...” Her voice faded away as her eyes came to rest on Sam.

Startled, Sam sat up straighter in the chair and brushed Dean’s hand away from his thigh, though it didn’t do any real good. “Fine,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I’m good, ma’am. Really. Just fine.” He tried to shift a little more under the table in an effort to hide his erection from the woman.

Her sharp eyes missed nothing, but she pulled her gaze away. “If you need anything, anything--” she stopped abruptly, swore in her native tongue, and hurried inside the house.

_If you need anything. Anything..._ Dean echoed, his gaze sweeping over Sam’s face, his high color reminding him again of how Sam looked when they made love. 

_So not funny,_ Sam said glaring up at Dean. He reached out and shifted the umbrella so it was blocking Dean’s view, not that he really suspected that would help. _You, behave. Let me eat,_ Sam said. _Or I’ll call you ‘mouse’ in front of all the other Carpathians._

_You would not._ The thought of all the jokes he’d be subjected to had Dean relenting. The image dissipated. _Better?_ he asked, knowing full well it wouldn’t be better. 

_Yeah, I love blue balls first thing in the morning. Goes good with my coffee,_ Sam grumbled, but was pleased he’d found one button to push to make his lifemate behave. _Lifemate._ It sounded so weird but sounded so right as well. He smiled to himself and worked on quickly finishing breakfast. He was anxious to get back inside and see Dean in the flesh. _You’re a pain,_ Sam said, but his mental tone softened, _but I love you._ He sent Dean an image of him kissing Dean’s lights out. _And I’m almost done with breakfast._

_You better be,_ Dean growled. _After that, I have half a mind to come out there in the sun to get you._ He was pleased at how easily and naturally Sam had conveyed the images to him, unconsciously using their now linked mind paths. 

Sam finished eating, thoughts of exploring the grounds forgotten, knowing that Dean was upstairs waiting on him. He pushed himself to his feet and started to gather his dishes to take into Maria when he noticed just how much his pajama pants were still tented. He didn’t even have his robe to help hide it from Ivan and his wife.

He tried to slip into the house quietly and headed for the staircase as quickly as possible, but apparently Maria had sharp hearing.

“Samuel, did you need anymore--”

“I’m good. I’m great. Going to go see Dean. He’s awake,” Sam said hastily, increasing his stride. He took the stairs two at a time and found the bedroom by following where he felt Dean was. Throwing open the door, he glared at Dean. “You could have at least given me my robe back. I’m certain Maria thinks I’m an adolescent horndog!”

“And be denied this view? I don’t think so,” Dean answered smugly, his eyes roving over Sam’s body, lingering on his groin. “Besides, anyone who’s in this house will have to get used to this.” 

“Me being embarrassed half the time with my dick at full mast? Great. Just great,” Sam grumbled. “I oughta just take my shower alone, but I know a certain mouse who would be eavesdropping, no, spying, yeah, spying on me trying to get rid of my mast. So come on. Make our clothes go poof, then I intend to tackle you onto the bed, just so you know.” Sam gave him a lusty smirk.

Sam’s clothing disintegrated. Dean started backing towards the bed and crooked his finger. “Tackle me.”

Good for his word, Sam rushed him, wrapping his arms around Dean as he crushed their lips together. He knew Dean could have withstood the tackle, but they fell back onto the bed without ever breaking their kiss. Sam’s tongue pushed into Dean’s mouth and he explored it anew as his hand brushed over Dean’s muscular body.

Dean shifted and ran his own hands all over Sam, lingering over his ass and molding him close. He knew it was only a matter of time before Sam realized that he still had his silk lounging pants on, but he did his best to distract him. _You have been gone from my bed for an hour, yet it feels like days. I missed you._ Running his fingers through Sam’s hair, he kissed him harder, with the hunger of a man who hadn’t seen his lover for centuries.

_Don’t think I didn’t notice, Jerk,_ Sam scolded him as he rubbed his erection against Dean’s pajama pants. _Off with them, or no nookie for you._ Sam’s threats were less than believable as he kissed Dean back just as hungrily as Dean kissed him.

_Just showing you the benefits of being Carpathian. One day, with practice, you will be able to undress me with a thought._ As their kissing grew more heated, Dean rolled Sam over and looked down into his beautiful face. His gaze dropped to the pulse at the base of Sam’s throat. The longer he watched it, the faster it jumped.

Seeing where Dean’s attention was focused, Sam tilted his head, exposing his neck more. “Fair warning. I’m a very fast learner and I think I’ll be very motivated to learn how to make your clothing disappear with a thought.”

“Good.” Dipping his head, Dean pressed his tongue against Sam’s pulse point. Feeling Sam’s blood rush under his tongue, he groaned with need and sucked his flesh into his mind. He gave himself a minute, then moved his mouth over Sam’s, kissing him again. 

Thoughts of taking Sam tortured him. The game he’d played had affected him as much as it had Sam, and now, feeling the press of Sam’s hard cock against his stomach, he ached so bad it hurt. “Want you,” he said thickly. “Need you.”

“So what are you waiting for,” Sam said almost breathlessly, feeling the ache in his lifemate echoed in himself. Sam arched, rubbing against Dean’s stomach, leaving hot trails of cum in his cock’s wake. _So maybe I am an adolescent horndog when it comes to you,_ he admitted, his hands once again roaming over Dean’s body.

“You’re not that much older than an adolescent,” Dean chuckled, his laughter sticking in his throat when he made his pants disappear and they were skin to skin. Pressing his hands into the mattress, he lifted his upper body up while grinding against Sam, sliding his thick, hard cock against Sam’s. 

Dean arched, watching Sam as they moved against each other. “Horndog _only_ for me, that’s how I like it,” he said, his tone growing a little fierce as his will to possess, to claim, Sam surfaced. 

Sam’s eyes glazed over a bit as soon as he felt them skin to skin. When their cocks glided by one another’s Sam gave a groan of approval. “Only for you?” Sam said, knowing he was playing with fire but he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t know. What if all Carpathians are as gorgeous as you? Might be a downright horndog fest.”

Deans fingers curled into Sam’s hair. He gave a sharp tug, forcing Sam to look at him even as he continued to grind more forcefully against him. “You are _my_ lifemate.” His nostrils flared. “No one can take you from me.” But it wasn’t true. Until he completed the ritual. Until Sam took his blood, anything could happen. His gaze dropped to Sam’s throat, thoughts of sinking his teeth deep torturing him. It was an exchange of blood that he needed, but this might appease the beast.

“Ouch!” Sam complained at the pulling of his hair. As he felt Dean grind harder, almost painfully harder, he wrapped his legs around Dean. “Careful about crushing the equipment,” Sam said, but couldn’t deny the thrill that vibrated in his every cell at hearing the possessiveness in Dean’s voice, in the way Dean looked at him, in the way Dean took control. “Kiss me,” Sam said. “Kiss me like you own me.”

“Admit I own you,” Dean countered, sliding a hand under Sam’s ass and lifting him as he aligned his tip and pressed it up against Sam’s hole, the motions of his body aggressive and silently trumpeting his claim.

Sam’s gaze locked with Dean’s and he let a handful of heartbeats pass. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours,” he said, the rest of the words Dean had said last night slipping away as he saw the fire in Dean’s eyes become an inferno. 

The beast inside Dean roared. It was all wrong... those were his words to speak. And at the same time, it was all right... exactly right. Two warriors, each claiming the other. _You cannot fathom how much I want to make you mine the right way._ Afraid to show Sam even a glimmer of the need he was fighting, to keep him safe, to confirm that his blood would not harm Sam, and sensing Sam’s mental probing, Dean gave a sharp thrust of his hips. Simultaneously, he buried his cock deep inside his lover and his fangs into the side of his throat. Spinning erotic images in Sam’s mind, he soothed the pain of the sudden entry, but stoked the fires of his need. 

Sam cried out with a shout of pain, of ecstasy, his mind swept away by the worlds Dean created in his head. Dean’s cock felt as if to split him in two, and the sharp needle daggers in his throat made the hunter in him go on high alert, while the man who knew he’d already lost his heart to Dean reveled in it. All of it. Rocking his hips, he pushed Dean a fraction deeper, then a fraction shallower, and began to work on a steady rhythm even as his heart raced and he felt Dean’s mouth at his throat, drinking his lifeblood. “I’d die for you,” Sam whispered hoarsely.

_Never._ Dean cupped Sam’s chin, holding it to one side as he drank, his cock surging and getting impossibly harder, filling Sam completely. The sound of Sam’s blood rushing through his veins, of his blood pumping, of his heart pounding against his chest roared in Dean’s head. This was his lover, his lifemate. Made for him. Born for him, and he knew it, accepted it. Wanted it.

_I want you so much. You’re the light to my dark, mine to love... to protect._ Sam’s lifeblood tasted sweet and spicy and exhilarating, beyond anything Dean had ever known. _Love you. Love this. Die for you. Kill for you._ He vowed, thrusting harder and faster, his mind and soul filled with thoughts of his lover. 

_I’ll always be your light,_ Sam thought back, rocking his hips counter to Dean’s thrusts, feeling the thrill and love in Dean. His head was growing light, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Dean drinking his blood or pounding into him, or from the way his heart raced. He dug in fingers into Dean’s hair, holding Dean’s mouth at his neck, the erotic feelings make his own cock leak steadily even as he felt himself growing closer and closer to his climax.

_One day..._ Dean showed Sam an image of themselves sitting, Sam straddling his thighs, and each of them drinking from the other as they did nothing but rock back and forth, sharing their life essence and connecting on every possible level: body, mind, soul, lifeblood. There was no way to get closer to another person. _I want to crawl inside you. I want to touch every part of you._

It was so good, so right. Dean knew he would walk through a thousand fires and risk poisoning all over again, if he had to for this. 

_Turn me, I’m ready,_ Sam begged even as a tiny part of him shuddered in fear at the idea of becoming something other than human. A different voice in his head reminded him he probably wasn’t even human to begin with, what with Yellow Eyes’ demon blood in him. 

The demand caught Dean off guard, the beast in him rising suddenly. His teeth elongated a little more and he bit down harder, drinking faster as he thrust his hips with heedless abandon. Sam’s pain registered in his mind, tugging Dean back. _Don’t. Do. That._ He snarled, still reeling, and trying to control the beast. 

Sam’s head was beginning to throb, even as his cock pulsed with need. He began to fear Dean was taking too much blood, that he would drain him without meaning to. He clenched hard repeatedly to try to push Dean over the edge of the precipice he, himself was already on.

Dean’s first instinct was to fight Sam, to make this last much, much longer. But through the haze of the beast’s lust, he managed to find himself and to mentally meld with Sam’s mind. He pumped his hips harder, pushing Sam’s entire body up the length of the mattress. _Push me over. Now. Now!_

His entire body tensed. Ached for it. For release. He felt the bite of Sam’s fingers digging into his back, and then Dean took one more long swallow of Sam’s blood, and came so hard and hot, his world spun out of control. 

It took very little for Sam to reach his climax. He couldn’t say if it was that last gulp of blood Dean took, or the heat that exploded inside him as Dean came. His own cum sprayed from him as his balls pulsed again and again. He arched, crying out Dean’s name even as he milked Dean, as he caused his own balls to throb. Collapsing back onto the bed, Sam was totally and completely spent.

Even as he continued to rock against Sam, Dean licked the wound he’d left on Sam’s throat. It should have been just two small pin pricks and no bruising. “I hurt you,” he said, his voice deep with regret. “I lost control,” he admitted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing Sam very lightly, almost afraid of his reception.

“Good to know you’re not perfect,” Sam mumbled sleepily, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He wrapped his arms around Dean and tugged him down for a longer kiss. “Stay with me. Sleep with me.”

It was a good thing Sam couldn’t see the dumbfounded look on his face. “Wait, I hurt you and all you have to say is you’re glad I’m not perfect?” Dean demanded. “Sam?” But his lifemate was already asleep or unwilling to satisfy his curiosity, or both!

* * *

Even in the depths of the healing Carpathian soil, Dean had never slept as well as he did with Sam in his arms. He’d slept so deeply that he hadn’t felt Sam rise. And so it was, for the second time, Dean found himself alone in the large bed, with his lover’s scent clinging to the sheets and the pillows. 

Stretching, Dean got out of bed. With a single thought, he cleansed his body and was dressed in jeans and a loose blue-gray silk shirt. Sensing Sam’s location, he headed downstairs.

He greeted Ivan and Maria, who were leaving, then he made his way out to the pool. With practiced ease, he closed his mind so that Sam wouldn’t sense his nearness unless he sought him out.

Standing at one end of the pool, he watched as Sam swam away from him, his strokes even and barely splashing the water. When he turned to swim back, Dean couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. _You’re prettier than any mermaid I’ve ever seen._

Sam was lost in the easy strokes, in the warm, heated water of the pool when he heard Dean. _What about more handsome than any merman?_ Sam returned, losing his rhythm for a moment then gaining it back. Halfway down the length of the pool he stopped, treading water and looking toward Dean. Seeing Dean was not dressed to join him in the pool, he swam to the side and heaved himself up and out, then walked over to a lounger where his towels were laying out along with some sweats and a blue t-shirt and red and gray flannel shirt. _Well, don’t just stand there. Come down here and kiss me so I can push you into the pool or something._ He gave Dean a smirk as he began drying off his arms and chest.

_I’m admiring the view,_ Dean answered, his accent a little pronounced as he was distracted at the sight of his half-naked lifemate standing under the moonlight with water dripping from his chiseled frame. 

_I won’t be showing you any view if you call me a mermaid again,_ Sam told him as he ran the towel through his hair. Unabashedly, he shoved down his swim trunks and began drying off the bottom half of his body, stepping out of the wet spot, then sawed the towel across his back. Tossing the towel onto the chair, he began to pull on the clothes he’d brought out with him.

Heat roiled off Dean as he watched transfixed. “Dress slower.” The whispered words came out as a command. His hand clenched at his side as he fought the urge to cross the short distance between them and take Sam into his arms.

“Bullshit. It’s chilly,” Sam scoffed, his flesh already getting goose-pimply. “Besides, there will be some serious shrinkage if I’m not careful and I don’t want to ruin my image with you.” Sam stepped into his undershorts and quickly followed with his sweats. _If you forget how gorgeous I am, you can grope me when we get back inside,_ he mentally spoke as he tugged on the t-shirt, then the lightweight flannel shirt. He sat down on the chair and began pulling on his socks and shoes. _Dude, can you dry my hair with a thought? ‘Cause that would be awesome._

“You’re not very obedient.” Giving Sam a look, Dean approached, then walked behind him. As he worked his fingers through silky soft, wet strands, Sam’s hair slowly dried. “Sometimes I prefer touch to thought,” he said, one hand sliding to Sam’s shoulder. 

“You want obedient, get a dog.” Sam gave a soft sigh of contentment as he felt Dean’s fingers in his hair and his hand on his shoulder. He moved his hands behind him, putting them on Dean’s waist and tugging Dean up against him. He relaxed, letting his head fall back a little. “If I wasn’t so tired and hadn’t just dried myself off, I’d send us both in the pool for some serious playtime. After I reminded you I need to breathe.”

“Show me,” Dean said, leaning down and kissing Sam, his tongue just barely invading Sam’s mouth, before he straightened and continued playing with his hair and caressing his shoulder, then chest. His mind pushed against Sam’s, demanding images of what Sam had in mind. 

Sam still wasn’t used to the idea that he could show his thoughts to someone. “I didn’t have anything specific… I mean, you know...” Sam chewed on his bottom lip and conjured up images of sneaking up on Dean and pushing him into the water, then diving in after him. While they were still underwater, he’d wish away Dean’s clothes. He’d come up for air, then go right back down and start giving Dean a blow job while one hand found its way around to Dean’s crack. His fingers moved down it, teased that tight puckered hole, then pushed his finger inside. The image slid to him fucking Dean underwater, then he imagined himself at the edge of the pool, hanging on with both arms stretched along the wall, and he was riding Dean’s cock. “How’s that? I’m not really used to playing my mental porn for anyone else. It’s kinda… embarrassing,” he admitted sheepishly.

Dean’s eyes had closed as he went along for the ride. Taking a step forward, and pulling Sam against him, he let the press of his arousal against Sam’s back do the talking for him. “You more than pass. And we’ll have to do that. Soon. Very soon.” Dipping his head, he kissed the side of Sam’s neck. “If you don’t stand up soon, we’ll be tumbling back to bed and I won’t be able to show you around.”

Sam forced himself to straighten and turned, giving Dean a thorough kissing. After he broke it off, he waved one hand while interlacing the fingers of his other hand with Dean’s. “I expect a first-rate tour. Where do we start? And I’ve already seen the bedroom, and the staircase, and the soft carpet in front of the fire...” Sam said, naming off the places they’d had sex the night before.

Dean laughed. “I meant the town. There’s a nice tavern with music.” He waved his hand. “But if you want to stay in, I know Maria has food in the kitchen. Eat, then I’ll show you around.” 

Sam’s face brightened. “I’d _love_ to see the town! I kinda figured I was on lockdown for a few weeks. I guess I better start studying my Romanian. Are Carpathian and Romanian the same?” He gave Dean a light kiss. “I love your laugh. Can you whip me up some appropriate clothes to go out on the town in?” Sam’s exhaustion fell away and he was practically bouncing with the thought of getting out to see the town and listening to some live music. 

“I would never keep you prisoner while I am at your side, and you,” he pointed at Sam, “are quickly getting used to this.” With a thought, he shifted Sam into jeans and a white silk shirt. Studying him, he suddenly grinned. The top button of Sam’s shirt popped off and fell to the ground, rolling to a stop under the table. “Better.” 

Sam laughed. “You are hopeless,” he said, looking down at the fallen button. “And I just meant I figured you wouldn’t want me off the grounds, where anyone could spot me. I’m glad you’re not that Old World. And yeah, I think you’re spoiling me with the,” he snapped his fingers, “clothes. That’s almost as cool as flying and shapeshifting. Almost. So, are we flying? Or are you going to turn into a stallion or a dragon for me to ride?”

“You’re ready to do more riding already?” Dean asked silkily, his gaze sliding down and up Sam’s body.

“Are you that inexhaustible?” Sam said with a shake of his head. “No. At least, not until we get back from painting the town. And… uhm, maybe we need to go easy on the blood drinking tonight. I’m kinda feeling… less energetic than normal. Or maybe it just… unsettles me a little. It’s awesome,” he added hastily, “I just need to recoup a little, if that’s okay?”

“It’s perfectly alright, as are you.” Dean put his hand out, closing it around Sam’s and heading into the house. “We’ll get to town the conventional way. Drive.” Chuckling at Sam’s surprise, he lengthened his strides. 

They walked down a few corridors, and then he opened the door to a large garage that was half empty, but still had three parked vehicles. Brushing Sam’s mind to see which one interested him most, Dean pulled the keys off the wall hook, then tossed them to Sam. “Wanna drive?”

Sam’s jaw fell open and he almost missed catching the keys. “I’ve heard of the Bugatti line of cars but aren’t they like--” He just shook his head. He knew they were expensive, up there with Maseratis and Lamborghinis. Probably more expensive, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know just how much the Bugatti Veyron cost. But damn, was that black and red car gorgeous. He carefully climbed into the car, his eyes scanning the dash as he started up the engine. “Holy crap,” he muttered. The sheer power he could feel in the car was amazing.

“I’m not really big into cars, but damn, Dean, this is the first time I think I’ll have to be careful not to cream my pants.”

“Then I’m going to have to try harder,” Dean said. _Not even when you saw me at the bar that first night? Damn._ He settled back in the seat, a smile on his lips. “It’s red and black,” he mused, running his fingers over the interior leather. “Much better than the gray and black I always saw before you came into my life.”

“And here I figured you’d go for princess pink or royal purple,” Sam teased. _And I was pissed. You scared the shit out of me at the bar. I wasn’t used to telepathy._ He carefully guided the car out of the garage.

With a single thought, Dean opened the ornate gates that led out of the compound. Then he inserted an image into Sam’s mind. “On our way back,” he said, grinning at the thought of giving Sam a blow job while he concentrated on driving the car.

Sam slammed on the clutch and brake. “Don’t do that!” he yelped, thinking about how fast this car could go and what would happen if Dean did exactly what he showed Sam he intended to. He passed Dean a mild glare then threw the car into gear and pressed on the gas pedal. The car leapt forward. “Woohooo!” he shouted as the car raced down the road at high speed, a grin plastered on his face.

* * * 

As they strolled toward the town square where there were many sidewalk cafes, restaurants and taverns, Dean held Sam’s hand. They sometimes stopped in front of stores to see what goods were offered. There were a lot of art galleries and Dean had a few strong views on _modern art_.

“Here, you’ll find this store interesting,” he promised, dragging Sam towards a building that was painted black, but had a red door and window frames. “A hunter’s wet dream,” he said, giving Sam a look.

“You’re my wet dream,” Sam told him. “Unless they have clones of you in there, why would it be my wet dream? Lots of fuglies in there that need putting down, or what?” Sam asked, studying the house. “Is this the local version of a red-light district?”

Dean chuckled. “Weapons, reference books. Even got a manuscript signed by Count Dracula, who most definitely was neither vampire nor Carpathian.” _Why are you interested in a red-light district? You have me._ He raised a brow as he studied Sam’s profile.

“The place does sound interesting, but I didn’t know Vlad Tepes wrote. I’d love to see what a story by the man is about.” He glanced at Dean and grinned. _Maybe because when you’re with me, my hormones are on overdrive._ He leaned in and kissed Dean. _Course your car got me pretty hot too._

_Gonna have you revving your engines all the way home,_ Dean answered with a gentle reminder of what he had in mind. “I wonder what Maria would make of me carrying you inside.” Chuckling, he tugged Sam along. For the first time in centuries, he felt a sense of peace in place of the pervasive numbness which had brought him one step closer to turning every year.

“Somehow I don’t Maria would think anything of it at this point.” Sam felt his cheeks warm at Dean’s reminder. _Do not make me wreck that beautiful car of yours. I’ll be pissed._ “So is the store open in the evenings? And I thought Carpathians and hunters didn’t generally see eye to eye on things. Or is that a Carpathian store?”

“Carpathians don’t generally cross paths with hunters because we’re on the same side when it comes to vampires.” He looked down. “Well, there is a cult of humans who hunt us, but since they hunt nothing else, I wouldn’t put them in the same class as you.” His mouth tightened as he thought of that particular breed of hunter. “Come, we can have a look inside another time. While the stores in town close early on weeknights, the stores on this side of the street are open late on Tuesdays and the stores across the street are open late on Thursdays.”

“And you are supposed to be giving me a five-star tour. What about the history of this place? Do the humans around here have a clue about your people being different? Was this a human or Carpathian city first? Is this where you were born?” The questions fairly bubbled out of Sam. He squeezed Dean’s hand, feeling the restlessness that had always haunted him, all but gone. He still wanted to travel and see things, but now… now he wasn’t alone. He’d never be alone again. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of spending the rest of his days with Dean.

“You didn’t mention that you’re a federal agent specializing in interrogation.” Shaking his head, Dean answered some of Sam’s questions, though he made him search for some of the answers himself. He liked having Sam in his mind, and he’d use whatever it took to make him use the gift they had.

After walking around the square and promising a vendor that they’d come back for gelato, they headed inside a tavern that was hundreds of years old. “Don’t make the mistake of drinking from my glass, here,” Dean warned, as they found a table near the window and sat down. 

Sam’s brow lifted. _They’ll serve you blood here?_ he asked and then pushed a little into Dean’s mind to find the answer. Sam made a slight face. “Yeah, definitely won’t. So should I sample the ale or the wine?” He spun the coaster in front of him. “And I’m starved,” he added, suddenly hearing his stomach growl rather loudly at him. “It’s your fault. You keep working up my appetite. For all sorts of things.”

Dean smirked. _Be ready to be perpetually hungry._


	9. Chapter 9

The waitress came over and started speaking to them in rapid-fire Romanian, until Dean stopped her. Glad to practice her English, she switched to Sam’s native tongue and started telling Sam about the tavern’s specialties, suggesting he try a sampler plate. She never asked Dean what he wanted, only exchanging looks with him.

Sam agreed to the sampler plate and the wine sampling special, so he could get half-glasses of several select wines they were serving that evening. He complimented the waitress on her English, earning himself a brilliant smile. 

As soon as the waitress brought over some rolls, Sam snagged one from the basket, then nearly dropped it, it was so hot. He set it down on one of the small plates she’d provided and sucked on his fingers while he picked up his knife to cut the roll open so he could put butter in it. He glanced up to see Dean watching him intensely. _What’d I do now?_ he asked, his slightly burnt fingers in his mouth.

_We’re this close to driving home, right now. This close._ Dean’s nostrils flared a little as he let Sam experience his reaction to watching him dipping his fingers ever so nonchalantly in his mouth. 

Practically jerking his fingers from his mouth, Sam’s cheeks colored. _You are a worse horn-dog than me,_ he said giving Dean a look. He slathered the fresh butter on the roll and let it cool for a minute longer before taking a big bite out of it. Totally fresh, totally homemade, he barely stopped himself from groaning at the taste of it. He was so used to greasy diner food, this was like a small slice of heaven. Of course, his food this entire trip had been that way. Ironic that he’d soon be losing the chance to taste all these wonderful foods. He sensed Dean in his head, and that Dean was registering how good the food tasted. _It’s not even as close as good as sex with you, but it’s a very distant second, and it’s not my fault the food is so freaking good._

“Watching you eat makes me... hunger,” Dean said in a low voice, his gaze moving slowly over Sam’s face. When their eyes met, Dean cocked his head to the side. “I know it’s difficult for you to imagine not enjoying eating. After the change, some tolerate food better than others,” he said. “But I don’t think you’ll miss it. Perhaps you’ll miss the ritual of eating.”

Sam broke his gaze with Dean long enough to smile at the waitress who brought him his first glass of wine, and set down an elaborately carved wooden goblet for Dean. When his gaze returned to Dean, his smile was still there. _I remember how my blood tasted to you. Like all the finest foods I’ve ever tasted and more. I’ll get used to it, the not eating. I’m just hoping the blood tastes as good to me._ He studied the wooden goblet, recognizing it was a means to conceal that it was blood and not wine in it. “That looks like it’s been in the family for years. I don’t mean it looks old, just fancy. Is your… drink… served warm?”

“Depends on whether it’s freshly drawn,” Dean answered evenly, trying not to laugh at Sam’s expression. 

“Do they take it from someone on staff?” came out of Sam’s mouth before he even thought about it, imagining the owner calling over some serving girl and telling her she had to get poked with an IV needle to fill up Dean’s glass. His gaze practically ricocheted around the room wondering who the donor might be, then looked suspiciously back at Dean. “I bet you’re damned good at poker, aren’t you? I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.” He knew he could dig around in Dean’s mind to find the answer, but sometimes wondering about the truth was more interesting.

“Let’s just say we won’t be touring the dungeons.” Refusing to give up any information, Dean took a sip of the scarlet liquid in his goblet, then looked around himself. “I don’t know any of these people, but many of them... I’m sure I knew their forefathers.” 

“How’d the waitress know exactly what you’d want to drink then?” Sam asked. “How many of them know who you are?”

“I made sure she knew. Made her tingle.” His eyes snapped to Sam’s and he didn’t hide his amusement. Course if the joke had been made in reverse, he’d be dragging Sam out of the tavern right about now.

Sam’s eyes widened, recalling exactly how Dean had made him ‘tingle’ before, and he glared at Dean. “You’re not allowed to do that,” he grumbled, feeling jealousy well up. _I’m going to absolutely hate it when you have to feed from someone else. At least I’ll get to make you equally jealous,_ he said somewhat smugly. 

_No, there won’t be a need to make me jealous. I am naturally jealous and you will feed only from me._ Liking the plan more by the second, Dean took Sam’s hand and then made a shiver go down Sam’s back. “That is all the tingling I gave her. Everything else is reserved for you,” he said, kissing Sam’s hand and releasing it.

_Only you get to feed from the gorgeous guys? Or the sexy women? Hah!_ Sam responded, taking a sip of the wine but shuddering as that tingle seemed to ripple up and down his spine again and again. He knew it was his imagination, it was the emotions filling him from Dean’s declaration that everything else was saved for him. “It better all be saved for me, cause I’m apparently very jealous when it comes to you, too.” 

“Wait ‘till you’re one of us. It’s hard for a human to comprehend the depth of our jealousy,” Dean said. “It’s like comparing irritation to anger. Or a drop of water to an ocean. We get a bit _dangerous_ when our lifemates are getting someone else’s attention. And humans, they can’t help giving us attention.”

“I’m sure I’ll find ways to manipulate all that dangerousness back from an ocean to at least a sea. Maybe even a lake.” Sam grinned and winked at him. “Where’s the restroom, by the way?” he asked, glancing around.

“Here, they are almost always downstairs,” he said, nodding his head towards the top of some stairs. “It’s an old-world thing.” 

“Makes sense, actually,” Sam said and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He slid his chair in and headed in the direction Dean had indicated. He couldn’t help but gawk at the elaborate carvings and decorations everywhere on the walls. There was no doubt in his mind that he liked this place, and Romania, in general. He could begin to see himself living here. He didn’t know if that was just giddiness from being head over heels for Dean, or if it was because it was new and different, or any of a handful of other reasons. He glanced back over his shoulder at Dean when he reached the top of the stairs. _Love you,_ he said, then grinned and hurried down the wooden steps.

Smiling broadly, Dean knocked back most of his drink. _Let me know if you want any assistance. Zippers can be impossible._ There was a definite smirk in his voice.

_I’ve been handling zippers since I was three. I think I can manage,_ Sam said, knowing if Dean followed him down to the bathroom, there would almost definitely be bathroom sex. Or, at the least, Sam would come out of it with blue balls.

He found the men’s bathroom and walked in, only to find his zipper stuck when he tried to lower it. _That_ explained the smugness in Dean’s mental voice. Sam imagined flicking Dean right between his eyebrows. _Jerk!_ he said and finally got his zipper down. He took care of business and gave his hands a good washing then headed back up the stairs, nearly running into a blond guy with dark brown eyes, and honestly, the guy sort of made Sam’s breath catch. He was like a living, breathing Adonis. He was probably a model or actor or something. Way out of Sam’s league if Sam wasn’t already taken and Sam knew it. Then again, he’d have considered Mr. Hunkalicious Dean out of his league, too.

“Do I know you?” the handsome man asked in broken Romanian, then switched to Italian and finally English, cocking his head to the side.

Sam gave a self-conscious laugh. “No. I think I’d remember you,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, uhm, stare.” Sam felt his face flush a little. The guy was sort of blocking the narrow stairwell. After a moment and realizing he was sort of blocking the way down, too, Sam stepped to the side and motioned the good-looking guy down the steps. “I’m new in town, still kinda getting used to everything.” He nodded and waited for the man to slip by him.

“So am I. New. My name is Franco.” He grinned. “Wait for me. I’ll buy you a drink when I get back. I can’t stand a mystery and I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m with someone,” Sam said, “but thanks. And, uh, welcome to town.” If Dean had caught even the slightest whiff of the guy, Sam was honestly a little afraid Dean might do something rash, like take the guy flying and drop him from a thousand feet off the ground. Which really would be a shame since the guy was droolable.

“All the good ones are taken, but,” he put his hand on Sam’s arm, “I did only want to share a drink. Your friend is welcome. Ah, what do I call you?” he asked.

“You don’t call him anything,” Dean said, materializing at the top of the stairs and staring Franco down with eyes darkening to almost black. 

“The jealous boyf--” Franco started.

“Hands. Off.” There was a sharp edge to Dean’s voice, and the air stirred with the heat of his anger. “I won’t say it again.” _Your heart is racing._ A muscle flexed in Dean’s jaw, but his eyes focused only on Franco.

“Fiancé. Jealous fiancé,” Sam said, slipping free of the guy’s touch. _It’s okay, Dean. Take a deep breath and calm down. He’s just being friendly._ He reached out and took Dean’s hand. “It was nice to meet you,” Sam said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m sure we’ll see you around.” He glanced at Dean. _That would be your cue to lead me back to the table, Hunk._ He filled Dean’s mind with how he felt about him, and that no one, not even the pretty boy, could sway or change how much he loved Dean and only Dean. 

“You bet. Have a nice evening.” Shaking his head, Franco disappeared down the stairs.

Dean turned his gaze to Sam. The need to turn him, to make him his for all time burned in his eyes. The beast snapped and snarled, calling him a fool for waiting. What he’d just witnessed... it made it a thousand times harder for Dean to fight his instincts... the ancient Carpathian drive to claim one’s lifemate.

“C’mon, Dean, let’s get back to our table,” Sam soothed, trying to nudge Dean to take the lead. “You’ve chased him off, I’m certain,” Sam said, smiling a little, absurdly sort of happy by Dean’s show of jealousy and protectiveness. He let Dean feel everything he was feeling, opening up more of his mental shields though he knew the way they seemed to be of one mind, he knew it would be much, much harder to shut Dean out now if Dean truly wanted to find something out.

Releasing Sam’s hand, Dean clamped his fingers around Sam’s wrist. _He had no right to touch you. You shouldn’t have let him. You have no idea what I want to do to him._

Sam looked down at the hand Dean had on his wrist, then back up at Dean. “Humans touch. There was nothing intimate or dangerous to you or to me. I don’t know your ways yet,” he said coolly. “And you aren’t going to hurt someone because of it. Not if you want to keep me.” Sam met Dean’s angry gaze almost dispassionately. He wanted to rebel, to act like he would have if it had been his father barking out those orders, but he sensed Dean was on the edge of being just as dangerous as he’d suggested earlier that he could be. Even so, Sam would only tolerate so much. “You're bruising my wrist, Dean,” he said quietly. 

Slowly, Dean eased his grip, but he didn’t release Sam. His gaze flashed down the stairs, another wave of anger washing over him. “He wanted more than you think.” That was all he said, before starting to walk back through the tavern, trying to center himself.

_I do recognize when I’m being hit on,_ Sam said. He tugged his arm free, so he wasn’t being dragged along. Then he reached out, grabbing Dean’s shoulders and forcing him to turn to face him. He leaned forward and planted a slow but gentle kiss on Dean’s lips. _I feel your need to turn me or change me, or whatever. I don’t understand why you’re fighting it. If it’s me complaining about the food, or being afraid of changing, it’s okay. I’m accepting it. More or less. You don’t have to wait on me to be ready. I’ll deal._ Sam chose his words as carefully as he could. He wasn’t trying to provoke Dean’s dark side, that hunger, that beast that was inside him. He was just trying to understand why Dean was holding back. 

The beast roared. Dean flinched away. “Don’t.” He closed his eyes and forced the beast back down, fighting the need to take Sam up on his invitation. It took a minute or two, but when he opened his eyes, Dean was back in control. _The only reason I haven’t turned you yet is that your safety comes above all. I told you, I’d been poisoned. It’s not out of my system yet. I haven’t been able to expel all of it. Gregori, the Prince’s second, is our greatest healer. After he frees me from this poison..._

_I didn’t realize. I thought you were better, cured. Then we need to get this Gregori here, as soon as we can. Because I don’t think either of us are going to be able to deal with your needs for much longer. I feel how it’s eating you up from the inside and I don’t like that feeling. At all._ He gave a slight nod. “I think my dinner’s waiting on me. And no more messing with my zipper.”

“Until we get to the car,” Dean agreed, managing to lighten up. Sam’s desire to be claimed and the passage of some time did a lot to ease his mood. A few long steps, and they were sitting at the table again. Though Dean was soon in deep conversation with Sam, he was completely aware of the moment Franco returned. He sensed the man looking in their direction, and only relaxed when he was gone from the restaurant.

* * * 

Sam slowly roused awake and glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. He looked to the empty spot beside him and brought his fingers to his lips as he remembered the fiery kiss Dean gave him before saying he was going to ground to sleep and heal. Rolling over onto Dean’s feather pillow, he breathed in Dean’s scent. It had been a fabulous night. After dinner, they’d gone upstairs to where there was live music and they’d danced and drank and there was a whole lot of kissing. Sam was pretty amazed at how deftly Dean managed to keep anyone from touching Sam while they danced. 

On the way home, Sam almost wrecked the car three times. He was a little intoxicated, yeah, but that had nothing to do with his erratic driving and everything to do with what Dean was doing to him while he desperately tried to concentrate on driving. They barely made it out of the garage before their clothes vanished and they were crashing into things as they made out en route to their bedroom.

Taking another deep breath of Dean’s scent, he finally sat up, groaning just a little. He was sore. All over. He took a long hot shower, but his muscles were still achy by the time he got dressed and headed downstairs to find a steak sandwich with cheese and onions and mushrooms sitting in the fridge for him, along with a salad and a small slice of fruit pie. He put the sandwich in the microwave for the time specified on the post-it note, and then took it and the salad to the kitchen table where he quickly devoured everything along with a soda he found in the fridge.

Since Dean would be out until sundown, Sam debated what he should do. He’d love to go for a jog, but knew Dean would forbid it. Not that his protest would have stopped Sam, but prudence suggested he stay on the grounds unless he was with Ivan or Maria. He wondered if he could get away with going into town to try to find a masseuse. Sam grinned, knowing Dean would really have a shit-fit over that. He ought to check email, maybe call Bobby, then he could take a stroll around the gardens and go for a swim. Then he could lay out in the sun, and maybe take a nap so he’d have the energy to stay awake for at least part of the night. Honestly, he’d be happy just staying in tonight and watching a movie or two and relaxing. He still hadn’t fully explored the house either.

Sam was just settling down to his computer when his cell phone went off. It was Ivan. “Hello?”

“Samuel? I am sorry to bother you with this, but Maria is out shopping. I went to see my brother and my car broke down. It will be hours before the tow truck can get here. Would you pick me up? The directions are easy,” he said. “If there was a town nearby, I would go there to wait but...”

“No, that’s okay, I don’t mind, Ivan. Okay, go ahead with the directions, and give me lots of landmarks. Dean will kill me if I get lost and have to ask for directions,” he said, chuckling, a pen held at ready over paper. He carefully took down the directions and called up maps on his computer. “Yeah, okay, I’ve got it. I’ll be in the Bugatti, since I know where the keys are and know it’s got plenty of gas. I should be there in maybe, I dunno, thirty minutes or so?”

“Thank you Sam. And drive carefully, or the Master will be killing me, too.” Ivan’s inky black eyes cleared and normalized. He turned to his companions. “He’ll be here soon.”

* * *

Since he knew he’d be back long before the sun set, Sam almost didn’t leave a note. But if Dean woke up... Sure Dean could yell at him, but at least Sam could say he left Dean a note so he wouldn’t worry. 

He stuck a post-it on the fridge telling Dean he took the Bugatti to pick up Ivan. After grabbing a couple waters from the fridge, he headed out to the car. He double and triple checked the directions, and once he felt comfortable with where he was going, he started up the sports car, cranked the satellite radio, and still had a grin on his face when he finally reached the out in the middle of nowhere place that Ivan’s car had broken down.

Turning down the radio first, he turned the car off and took the unopened water with him. “Hey Ivan. I brought you some water. Thought you might be thirsty after standing out in this sun. Man, it’s a beautiful day out, isn’t it?” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Unless your car’s broken down in the middle of nowhere. Sorry. Any word on the tow truck?”

“It is. Beautiful. And sunny.” Smiling, Ivan got out of the car. “I’d keep the water if I were you. You’re the one who’ll be needing it.” 

As Ivan’s eyes went demonic black, four burly men with equally dark eyes surrounded Sam. None of them held weapons. They didn’t need any. 

“Be a good hunter and get in the car,” Ivan said, opening the door of his own vehicle. “We’ll have you home safe by _sundown._ ”

Sam was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t seen anyone else around, and one glance at their eyes sent a dagger of ice into his gut. “Never was good at following orders,” Sam said, punching one of the men between him and the Bugatti and trying to shove past. If he could just get in the car and get it started...

“Get him!” Ivan shouted. 

The demons descended on Sam. It was just as they’d expected. He fought them. They’d been told to do anything, short of killing him, to take him. Failure would mean a return to hell, and none of them wanted that.

They were brutal and effective. Within a few minutes, they were carrying Sam’s heavy body into the car. His once pristine white shirt was a red, sticky mess, and a rivulet of blood still streamed down from his nose.

*

_Sam! Where are you, Sam?_ Sensing Sam’s distress, Dean had clawed his way out of the earth and was now pacing the length of the mansion’s living room. There had been pain and shock, and now there was nothing. Just silence.

And yet Dean knew his lifemate was not dead. He was in danger. He was out cold. And Dean had no idea where Sam was or what had happened to him. 

He’d telephoned Ivan twenty times to no avail. And Maria was out. Frustrated and fearing for his mate, he kept reaching out for Sam’s mind, insisting he come around, that he answer him.

_Sam, wake up, dammit. I command you._

*

Sam felt the urgency and somehow found his way back to consciousness, groaning at the insistent throbbing pain in his head. He felt rope on his wrists, his fingers were practically numb, and he was sitting in a chair of some sort. He also felt the gentle wind on his face and the heat of what he was fairly certain was the sun. He could even hear birds and insects.

Fingers wrapped tightly in his hair and jerked his head back. Another hand forced his jaw down, opening his mouth and liquid was poured into his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but even as he did, more was poured in and he did his best to swallow rather than drown. The hands holding him finally released him and his head lolled forward as he coughed and sputtered. _Dean?_ Sam finally called out with his mind, now that he didn’t feel like he was choking and fighting for air.

_Sam! Sammy?_ Dean stopped pacing. _Where are you? Open your mind. Let me see what you see,_ he demanded, trying to stay calm as he reached once more for Sam’s mind and burrowed inside. _Open your eyes, Sam._

He didn’t know what was happening to Sam, but he felt his distress. His disgust. He felt him gasping for air, like he was drowning. _Sam! Talk to me._

_I’m blindfolded. I’m outside in the sun but tied up. Demons… one possessed Ivan, lured me out. They knocked me out, put me in Ivan’s car. Got no idea where I am._ Sam was still feeling like he was trying to catch his breath when fingers wrapped in his hair again. He fought against it, trying to bite the hand that tried to open his mouth. “What are you giving me you fucking bastards?” Sam demanded, struggling against the ropes and thrashing about, trying to stop them. He knew it was blood, but he didn’t want to tell Dean that. 

More of Sam’s disgust washed over Dean. He dug deeper into Sam’s mind, needing to experience what he was experiencing. _Where did he lure you to. What is the last place you remember? I'll come get you. You hang on Sam. Hang on for me._ Dean stood at the tinted window, looking out at the sun beating down on the land. His fist clenched around the edge of the curtain. 

Sam was too busy fighting to answer Dean, and a hard blow to his head sent his world spinning. He fought to concentrate, to answer. _I-I wrote down the directions on a notepad by my computer, then... recopied them neatly,_ he managed to tell him. His head was pulled back and more blood poured into his mouth as his nose was pinched off. _Said they’d have me home by sundown,_ he added, desperately needing a breath and beginning to choke on the blood.

Dean moved so fast, the human eye would never have been able to track him to the office. _You’re in the mountains,”_ Sam! Sensing his lifemate was struggling for air, Dean raced out the front door. His skin prickled and started to burn by the time he reached the front gates and threw them open. Shifting to mist, he moved close to the ground, heading for Sam’s last location, ignoring the sensation of skin blistering off his body.

The demons let him struggle for just a moment longer then stopped pouring the blood down his throat and released his hair and nose. Sam took in a desperate breath as soon as he could, spitting out what little of the blood was still in his mouth. He felt Dean’s panic and the sudden pain of the sun on Dean’s skin. _No!_ he practically screamed at Dean. _I’m outside, in the sun. You can’t do anything to help, not without risking your life! They don’t want me dead. If they did, I’d be dead already. Please, at least wait until the sun is lower. I’m okay. I am._

Sam’s voice was hoarse as he spoke to his captors. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on and maybe you’ll get some cooperation out of me.”

Moving into the woods, Dean earned himself a few brief seconds of relief. But the sun pierced through the trees, a constant scratching and stabbing, getting incrementally worse even as he moved swiftly. He’d take it. Bear it. But he was unable to shield Sam from it, like he wanted. And if he wanted to find Sam, their minds needed to remain merged. _Close your mind to my feelings. Do what you’re doing, talk to them._ He tried to keep his emotions in check. He had to, for his lifemate.

_Dammit, get out of the sun! Let me try to get some information out of them!_ Sam seethed at him, scared for him, scared of losing him. 

When Sam ignored his command to shield his mind from Dean’s pain, Dean was forced to retreat back to the mansion. There was a slim chance he could find Sam, but with both of them in pain, and without any information about what he’d be facing, there was an even better chance his actions could cost one or both of them their lives.

When he entered the house and shifted to his normal form, Dean’s flesh was raw and bleeding. It was nothing. His body would heal. But if something happened to Sam, nothing would ever heal his heart.

Dean clamped down on his panic for Sam, and stayed in one corner of Sam’s mind, listening... learning... putting together the facts, so that when the sun started to dip into the horizon, he would be ready. 

“Ivan!” Sam snapped. “Or whatever is in you, talk to me. What do you want from me?”

“Ivan will do. Just shut up and drink or we will ram these remaining three gallons down your throat,” Ivan answered. 

Sam let out a slow breath. What could he do? Continue to fight and get half-drowned in the process? “I’ll cooperate,” Sam said finally. “Tell me what it is. Why are you pouring blood down my throat?”

“Just shut up and suck it down.” As Ivan motioned, one demon raised a gallon bottle up and started pouring it into Sam’s mouth, while the other pulled Sam’s head back and threatened to pinch his nose again.

“Keep drinking, or this will take all day,” one of them snarled, ignoring the choked sounds from their blindfolded prisoner., 

Sam struggled to keep up with the rate of the liquid, trying hard not to think about the fact it was blood, and wondering if it was poisoned. Even though it was such a large amount, his body seemed to readily process it and accept it; his stomach didn’t feel ‘full’ like he knew it should, and that kind of scared him most of all.

*

Sam drank and drank, having little choice in the matter. The demons hardly gave him time to try to catch his breath between drinks. Finally, after he finished the last of the blood being poured down his gullet, they released his hair and his head fell forward. 

The blood was doing something to him. He could feel it. But he didn’t know what. The demons murmured among themselves but Sam couldn’t make out what they were saying. Softly he began the first exorcism rite that came to mind. He rushed through it, his voice growing in volume, but a fist slammed into his jaw and a gag was pulled between his teeth. He couldn’t feel his fingers at this point and he was certain his wrists were bleeding from fighting against the ropes.

_Dean? What time is it?_ he asked, hoping the sun would be getting close enough to the horizon Dean could safely come for him soon.

Frustrated, angry and filled with fear for his lifemate, Dean tried to shield Sam from his darkest thoughts. Instead, he brushed Sam’s mind over and over, letting him know he was there. That he’d be there soon.

Then he was standing at his doorway, the urge to kill everyone who’d touched and tortured Sam, almost unbearable. Even before the sun dipped completely down into the horizon, he took to the air. 

As he flew, he showed Sam exactly what he was seeing. The road, winding into the mountains. His car pushed onto the shoulder of the road. The treetops beneath him. As soon as he felt Sam nearby, he whispered in his mind. _Consider your tormentors dead. All of them,_ he added in icy cold tones the moment he spotted the clearing.

_It’s not the people, it’s the demons inside them making them do this. The people are innocent. Let me exorcise them. Don’t kill them Dean,_ Sam begged. _If you have to knock them out or hurt them to stay safe, okay, but nothing else,_ he insisted.

Dean struggled with Sam’s request, especially once he saw the little camp. Sam was tied to a chair and blindfolded. Gallon sized plastic milk containers stained with red littered the ground, and Sam’s shirt and face was covered in blood. They’d bruised him. They’d hurt him. They were animals and didn’t deserve to live.

Sam could see through Dean’s eyes and heard Dean’s thoughts and felt his anger. _And what would you tell Maria?_ Sam whispered softly. _I’ll give you the words. Exorcise them. They won’t be able to strike back against you,_ he said and began feeding Dean the words to the exorcism since the gag prevented him from saying them.

Even as Dean circled over them and started the exorcism ritual, his eyes filled with dark fury, A few of the demons looked up and started talking to each other. He saw the flash of knives and gave them a grim smile as he touched down on the ground near them. He would do as Sam said, but he knew they would try to attack him, and he invited it.

The demons were strong, but physically no match for him. Not in these numbers. As he knocked them around and fought against the invisible forces they tried to erect, to use to push him away, he sensed Sam’s concern. _I am hitting them very gently._ His rage had eased a little, at least enough that his mood would not upset Sam anymore.

Sam finished mentally transmitting the exorcism Dean was repeating, and then he heard the sounds, the screams, of the demons as they were forced out of the bodies of their victims. _A little help now?_ Sam asked, fighting against the ropes, pissed at the blindfold and gag still on him. _Is Ivan okay?_

“He’s coming to his senses,” Dean answered, pulling the man back up to his feet and then racing to Sam’s side. He barely listened to Ivan’s panicked questions about what had happened, and the confusion of the other humans.

Snapping the ropes that bound Sam’s legs, then his wrists, Dean pulled the blindfold and gag off him. As he massaged the deep indentations left around Sam’s wrists, he leaned in and kissed Sam very gently. When he pulled back and completed his assessment of Sam’s injuries, a muscle throbbed in his jaw. _Are you sure their demons are all gone._ The urge to hit, to destroy, was back, full force, and the men standing behind him were in danger of being the recipients. 

“Yes,” Sam said, his voice hoarse. Having been tied up most of the day, his joints were stiff and he slowly, gingerly, pulled his arms around. He was surprised that his wrists weren’t coated in blood. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to get some feeling back into his fingers. “I’m okay. Sore. Nothing a good soak won’t cure,” Sam reassured Dean. He grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and tugged him back into a longer kiss, knowing what he needed to do to protect the men. _Take me home, after you make certain Ivan is up to driving. I just want to soak and then curl up with you._

“You’re inj--” Dean could sense Sam was in pain, but his effort to draw away was futile. Enveloping Sam in his arms, he held him close, feeling Sam’s heart beating, hearing the rush of his blood, and grateful each time Sam took a breath. _I don’t know what I would have done if--_

Seeing this was no time for apologies or guilt, Ivan started to usher the other humans to the truck and muttered about having eaten spoiled food that gave all of them fever.

_Hush. I’m fine. I’ve ended up with more bruises on simple salt and burns._ Sam finally ended the kiss and licked his lips. He saw Ivan seemed okay and was already preparing to leave. “You should look for clues before we go, see if we can figure out what the hell the demons are doing. I’ll… I’ll just sit here for the moment.”

“I sent your Bobby an email about this... this blood thing,” Dean admitted. Back at the mansion, he’d felt powerless, and it was the only thing he could think of to do. “I know you don’t like to talk about it or think about it but it’s history repeating itself.” He didn’t move away, but he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, staring at his lover, his confusion plain. “History is repeating itself? How?”

“Let’s talk about it at home. I’ll have you there in minutes.” He looked around. “There’s nothing here.” He knew that Ivan would dutifully question the others and then he’d return, and they could see what Ivan remembered.   
A breeze moved between them, and Sam’s clothes were free of all signs of blood or dirt. 

Sam didn’t argue. He was tired, his adrenalin was used up and he just wanted to feel safe again. In Dean’s arms, he knew he would. He let Dean help him to his feet. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but he knew he wouldn’t throw up, that he couldn’t, no matter how much he might want to. Glancing around at the scattered plastic jugs he finally just wrapped his arms around Dean and buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. _Yeah, get me home._

Dean closed one strong arm around Sam and cradled the back of his head with the other. Within a heartbeat, they had taken to the air and were passing over the truck that was slowly making its way down the highway. Home. Suddenly, it didn’t seem as safe as Dean had thought.


	10. Chapter 10

Standing over Sam who sat on the bed, Dean tended to his wounds, running his hands lightly over them, healing them one at a time and ignoring Sam’s protests that some were just scratches. When he was done inspecting every inch of Sam’s body, he burrowed deep into Sam’s mind to assure himself that Sam felt no discomfort. Only then did he stretch his hand out, offering to pull Sam up off the bed. “You said something about the hot tub?” 

“I didn’t know you could heal me like that,” Sam said, mildly irritated with Dean insisting on fixing every tiny scrape or scratch. He’d kept telling Dean he was fine. Especially after Dean had healed his face. He gave Dean a look. “Hot tub sounds good, but are you going to be able to keep your hands off of me long enough to explain your cryptic comment about history repeating itself? If not, then first we talk.”

“My self-control is legendary.” Dean gave a nod. “We’ll talk in the tub.” 

Sam gave him a disbelieving look. “Uh-huh.” With a wave of his hand he got to his feet. “Lead on. I don’t know where it’s at.”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s back as they walked out of the room. “A few more days, and some training, and none of them will ever be able to touch you again,” he vowed. He tried to shove his fears of losing Sam down deep inside, but some of his thoughts surfaced. His control was less than legendary when it came to his lifemate.

“I can fight, there were just too many and no amount of training will change that.” He glanced at Dean. “Or do you mean--are you going to change me? What about the poison?” Sam slipped his arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him up beside him. “Stop worrying you’re going to lose me. It’s like a big neon sign in your head. They obviously don’t want me dead or I would be already.”

“Are you in my mind again?” Dean gave a slightly forced smile which turned real the instant he felt Sam pressed up against him. “The Prince and Gregori will be here tomorrow. I managed to contact them and they are cutting their trip short. I’ll be free of this poison soon, and yes, then I’ll change you.” Naturally, talking about it woke the beast. Gritting his teeth, Dean walked Sam to the stairs. 

“Do they know about me? That you found your lifemate and I’m a guy?” Sam asked, curious. “And do I need to swear fealty to the prince--and is there a king?--once I’m changed?”

“No, they don’t know about you, yet. They only know it’s urgent they come home.” He glanced over at Sam and gave a nod. “It is a very brief ceremony. With just enough touching to piss me off.” Giving a wry chuckle, he led the way to the other end of the mansion.

“But by then, I’ll already be fully claimed by you, so don’t get pissy with your prince. Unless he wants to kiss me like you kiss me.” He smirked at the glare he received.

They reached a set of double doors, and walked through to a large inner court, with several pools, each lit up a different color. He pointed up at the stars. “During the day, a tinted glass covering allows us to use this area as well.” 

“Holy crap!” Sam said, overwhelmed by the extensive inside pools. “So what, the pool I’ve been swimming in is the servants’ pool or something?” The beauty of the concentric construction and the elegant bridges that stretched across the pools were breath-taking. “Once this is all over, Bobby has got to come visit just to see all this-this--beautiful stuff, and meet you and see how happy I am.”

“He can stay at the old dowager house since he’s as close to a mother-in-law as I’ll get.” Dean smirked, then raised his finger up in the air. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Sam grinned. “Oooh, blackmail material,” he teased. “And I think he could stay here and we’d still never see him. I still don’t even know how many rooms this place--our home--has.” He glanced and Dean then headed toward the closest bridge. “Is the car okay? I, uh, really like that Bugatti.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He used his thumb to push Sam’s bangs out of his eyes, and though his gaze lingered on his lifemate’s lips, he stepped back. _Control. I have plenty of it._

Without warning, Dean disintegrated both their clothes and shamelessly headed over the bridge toward the red pool, looking over his shoulder at Sam, pointing at him, and commanding. “Control.”

Sam grinned and, as soon as Dean turned back around, he raced up behind Dean. Wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his naked body firmly against Dean’s, he began sucking on his neck. _I’ve got plenty of control. I’m sure I can control how fast I can get you hard._

Groaning, Dean had to fight against the need to turn around and pull Sam into his arms. “I’m sure you can,” he said, looking down at his hardening cock. “Keep it up, Sammy, just keep it up, and I’m not responsible.” 

Turning his face to the side, he managed to coax a kiss from Sam, and then started to walk again, with Sam pressed up against him. “Say hi to Maria, she’s about to bring in some towels.” 

Sam tightened his arms around Dean’s waist. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking,” Sam said, his gaze glancing around the huge area, unsure what direction Maria would approach from. He hurried Dean along toward the center pool.

Dean just chuckled, but allowed Sam to make him walk faster. Reaching the pool, they separated and he let Sam walk down the steps into the hot water, before following. “You can stick to me again, if you like,” he tossed out, standing in the center of the pool, with the water reaching just above his hips.

Sam glowered at Dean. “You’re just evil. Not gonna be lovey-dovey until you tell me you’re sorry, teasing me about Maria showing up,” he grumbled, sitting down on the stone bench ringing the pool and folding his arms across his chest. He knew Dean was probably poking about in his head and understood he wasn’t really pissed at him. Annoyed, yeah, for ruining his fun by trying to embarrass him. The shit.

“I’m sorry,” Dean immediately responded, though the light in his eyes and his body language said quite the opposite. Slowly, he moved through the water toward Sam. “Very.... very... sorry,” he whispered, until he reached Sam and covered his mouth with his own. 

_Bullshit,_ Sam told him but immediately opened his mouth so Dean’s tongue could slide in and he wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him down closer. He let himself get lost in the kiss, feeling the tension inside him slowly uncoil, feeling and knowing he was safe once again.

_I love you. That’s not bullshit,_ Dean responded, drawing Sam even closer and deepening the kiss. They both needed it, he knew it, and not just from brushing Sam’s mind. But from the way Sam clung to him. As if he too could not bear another moment of separation. 

_I know,_ Sam said, feeling his own adoration of Dean swelling inside of him. He pushed himself off the bench, floating so he was on top and Dean was more or less floating backwards. It wasn’t like the water was particularly deep. Sam focused on kissing him, rubbing slowly against him, happy to just be with Dean. He could barely fathom that it would always be this way between them but prayed that it would, that they could never get enough of each other. Ever. 

_Forever._ Dean’s mental statement had a ring of finality. Moving around the pool, with Sam slip-sliding against him, teasing him, kissing him, Dean knew he’d go to the ends of the Earth and back for Sam. He didn’t even want to think of how impossible their first meeting had been. If Dean hadn’t been poisoned... if Sam hadn’t won a once in a lifetime trip... if he hadn’t been psychic... 

Suddenly Dean intensified his kisses, holding Sam impossibly close, like he would never let him go.

Sam let himself sink into Dean’s mind, letting their minds merge like he hadn’t, not really, before. He didn’t try to search through Dean’s memories, he simply floated among them like he was floating in the warm water now, absorbing flashes of events even as he felt the heat in his groin as his cock slowly hardened. Between the feelings rolling off of Dean and the way they held each other and kissed, it was all but impossible for his body not to want more of the man that he couldn’t get enough of.

Sliding his hand down the center of Sam’s back and slowly lower, Dean absently caressed the cleft of Sam’s ass cheeks. Feeling Sam moving around his mind, Dean stayed as quiet as he could, afraid that Sam would withdraw. This was how it should be. Their minds merged. No barriers between them. No loneliness, ever.

_Love you. Take me,_ Sam whispered in Dean’s mind. It didn’t even seem odd now that he barely knew Dean yet knew his feelings for the man were true and deep and real. He wanted Dean inside him, making love to him, confirming this was all real and not some fantasy his lonely mind invented and teased him with. The strength in the man’s touch, the ripples the light touch to his hole sent through him, it was the stuff of fairy tales. The good thing about fairy tales was they would get to live happily ever after. At least so he hoped.

Sam’s request sent a sharp thrill through Dean. Maneuvering to the edge of the pool, he broke the kiss. He moved his palms over Sam’s chest, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “You’re so damned beautiful. Inside, and out.” Dipping his head, he sucked Sam’s lower lip into his mouth, releasing it slowly and pulling back again. 

_You’re just saying that cause I’m your lifemate,_ Sam teased him, unable to stop himself from running his hands over the hard, muscular planes of his lover’s chest. He let his legs float upwards a bit, then gently wrapped them around Dean, loosely locking his ankles just below Dean’s ass. He paused one hand at Dean’s nipple, slowly rubbing it and turning it into a tight nub, watching Dean’s face and inside his mind, sensing his reactions.

Dean’s let his heavy eyelids drop and tilted his head back, his lips parting as he drew in his breath. _I’m telling you the truth, and you know it._ The sensations and emotions ebbed and flowed between them as they touched and tasted and loved each other. 

A firestorm started to build inside Dean. He tried to control the burn. To delay the inevitable. To enjoy the minute, but with Sam sharing his own building desires, he knew what was between them was about to rage out of control.

“Turn around,” he rasped, his nostrils flaring as he stared at his lifemate for a long moment.

Sam stared back at him, seeing the heat in his lover’s eyes, such fire that it practically made his breath catch. Unhooking his ankles, he brought his feet down to the floor and stood up, kissing Dean fiercely, then turned around, resting his knees on the bench and gripping the curved granite edge of the pool. He pushed back his ass as he bent a little forward.

Wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist, Dean stepped forward and brushed his mouth along Sam’s shoulder, in the process, grinding his erect cock against Sam’s ass. He closed his fist around Sam’s length and started to stroke, cursing when he felt Sam twitch in his hand. Growling, he pressed harder against Sam, moving against him in time with the movements of his hand. 

Sam’s head fell back as Dean began to stroke him. His body found the natural rhythm between Dean’s strokes and the wet slide of Dean’s cock in the cleft of his ass. Groaning softly, his breathing increased and he finally let his head tilt to the side, exposing his neck to Dean as he thrust harder into Dean’s hand.

The invitation was unmistakable and sent heat rushing straight to Dean’s cock. Closing his mouth over the pulse at the side of Sam’s neck, Dean pressed the flat of his tongue against it. As Sam’s pulse jumped harder and faster under his tongue, Dean started to push inside Sam. _Want you this bad_ , he whispered, sharing the intensity of his feelings as he invaded Sam’s body.

It was hard to concentrate, but Sam forced his own mind open. He wanted to return the favor and let Dean know exactly how he was making Sam feel. The sensation of Dean’s mouth on his neck, the thrill and excitement mixed with anticipation, wondering when Dean would bite. The way his muscles stretched as Dean pressed inside him, filling him, and the way it made his stomach clench and flutter and twist. The ecstasy flowing from the slide of that strong hand never missing a beat as it jacked him off with the most perfect of pressure and rhythm. The joy, the love, that overflowed inside him at knowing how much Dean loved him. He forced his mind open in a practical floodgate of these feelings and emotions, letting them sweep over Dean as they swept through him.

They were in perfect sync. Body and mind. Thoughts and actions whipping up each other’s desire, until their perfect motions were no longer perfect. Until they moved with more desperation, less control. Until they could not get enough of each other.

Pulling part way out of Sam, Dean slammed his hips forward, only just resisting the urge to sink his already bared teeth into Sam’s flesh. The thought of tasting his love’s wild and spicy blood started to eclipse everything else. He groaned, pulled out a little again, hoping the sensation of suddenly being encased inside Sam’s tight heat would give him the control he was struggling for. 

Sam felt the way Dean was fighting against biting him and wanted to encourage him, tell him that it was okay, then he remembered the last time he’d done that. Dean needed to choose his own time, and Sam didn’t need to encourage the beast within Dean. So he stopped himself, barely, from telling Dean to bite and instead focused on clenching and unclenching, of regaining that perfect push-pull they’d had before they’d both drawn so close to the edge that they now hung on to. Sam knew when Dean bit him he would come, sooner if Dean kept up the desperate thrusts. Noises escaped from Sam, soft grunts and moans of pleasure, the sounds growing louder anytime Dean hit his prostate. 

Dean scraped his aching teeth across Sam’s skin. Torturing himself. Torturing Sam. His entire body clenching when he could no longer fight the drive. Gripping Sam’s hip, he pressed his mouth down, his razor-sharp fangs breaking skin. Sam gasped as Dean’s fangs sank into his neck.

As blood filled his mouth, Dean faltered. He swallowed, frowning because his lifemate didn’t taste like he had before. _Don’t stop._ He commanded Sam, as he started to move his hips again, more slowly now, while he chanted ancient words in his mind. Cleansing words. Purifying words. Words that would purge the vile _poison_ out of Sam’s blood.

Sam felt Dean recoil from the flavor of his blood, a flavor that had previously sent Dean over the moon. He faltered as well, but Dean’s command to keep going, had him obeying. He hated the way they’d slowed down when he had been at the precipice, ready to explode. Now there was an uncertainty he couldn’t understand. Then foreign words flowed from Dean’s mind to his. Red-hot electricity shot through his body and he shuddered. 

Sam’s mouth filled with a foul-tasting liquid that he spat onto the stone. It was an oily black substance that practically bubbled and writhed. Thrice more he spat the black ooze from his mouth before clarity seemed to fill his mind and body.

_Brace yourself._ Dean glanced at Sam’s hands, making sure he was holding onto the edge of the pool. _Tell me you’re mine,_ he demanded, snapping his hips forward, and riding Sam harder and faster as he drank deeply and was quickly dragged back into the erotic web of their making.

_Yours. Only yours. Forever yours,_ Sam told him, falling back into the rich tapestry of feelings, of love, and tasting the purity of his blood through Dean. As Dean pushed him harder and faster his cries of pleasure grew in volume. He threw back his head and shouted Dean’s name, his voice echoing in the chamber as he came hard and repeatedly.

Sam’s declaration and shouts pushed Dean over the edge and had him shouting out his own release. He whispered in Romanian. In Carpathian. He spoke in Sam’s mind, and kept him close as they both rode out the last waves of their lust. As his ability to think returned, he kissed Sam’s ear, his cheek, and dipped his head down to lick the pinpricks on his throat, closing the wounds. “Mine. Always,” he finally said in English, slowly turning Sam around to face him. “And I’m yours. For always.” He repeated the words in Carpathian, smiling as Sam echoed them back. 

“Now that we’re sated,” Sam said, but hearing his stomach suddenly growl loudly, he chuckled. “Partly, at any rate, tell me what Bobby had to say and what,” he glanced back at the dark ooze that was slowly evaporating into black smoke and that he still tasted in his mouth, “what is that crap? It was what they fed me, wasn’t it? Poison?”

Cupping Sam’s jaw, Dean leaned and kissed him, ignoring the taste of the taint and sweeping his tongue around until there was no trace of its bitterness. Then he sat down, on the bench, next to Sam, considering how to discuss what he knew was a touchy subject.

Dean licked his lips. “I haven’t spoken to him. I just... I e-mailed him to ask what those demons were doing to you. We’ll need to check for an answer.” He turned his head to look at the now almost gone inky black liquid. 

“You said history was repeating itself. What did you mean?”

Dean clenched his jaw, but faced Sam. “I mean they’re at it again. It wasn’t human blood or animal blood.”

Sam frowned for a moment then his eyes widened. “Demon blood? They were making me suck down demon blood? What the fuck?” Sam exclaimed, then his eyes darkened. “So they’re trying to get me ready for something.” He pulled Dean close. “If I hadn’t found you, I’d probably be their puppet by now.” Releasing Dean he stood up and offered him a hand and tugged him out of the hot tub, giving a slight shiver as the cooler air struck him. “I’m suddenly starved, and we’ve got some email to check. How about you dry us and dress us, and we try to find out what the fuck is going on?”

Dean threaded his fingers through Sam’s and by the time they reached the other end of the bridge over the pools, they were both dressed in comfortable lightweight clothing. “I haven’t worked my way to sweat suits,” Dean said, making a face. There were weighty problems on both their minds, but Sam had helped him find a sense of humor, and he wasn’t giving it up.

Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll convert you.”

Sam let Dean guide him to the kitchen where he found a casserole being kept warm in the oven and some fresh rolls on the counter ready for heating. Sam grabbed a soda from the fridge then pulled out the casserole and heated the bread for a brief time in the microwave. The table in the dining room was already set so he filled his plate and headed out to settle there. “Did you check email? What did Bobby have to say” Sam asked as he began digging into the meal with more enthusiasm than he imagined he’d have, but he felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

Sitting at the head of the table, Dean retrieved Sam’s email. Although he’d used Sam’s email account, he’d signed his own name to the email he’d sent to Bobby. “He must keep vampire hours,” Dean said, clicking to open Bobby’s email, which the man had to have sent in the early hours of the morning, based on the time difference. 

He brushed Sam’s mind and was surprised, and pleased, by Sam’s calmness. _That’s my Fierce One._

“Sometimes I'm not sure he sleeps,” Sam said with a nod after he swallowed. “Well? Does he have any idea what’s going on?”

“He says the only reason he knows of, for feeding someone demon’s blood, is ‘host preparation.’” He raised a brow, “and he says if I don’t phone him to let him know what the hell’s happening and that you’re fine, he’s buying a ticket and hunting my ass down.”

Sam chuckled. “Yep, sounds like Bobby. I’ll call him after dinner. And we ought to get charms to protect Ivan and Maria from possession. Can a demon possess a Carpathian?” Sam asked curiously.

“I’ve never heard of a Carpathian possessed by a demon, but dark magi have been known to--” Thinking it through, Dean shook his head. “Not by possession, but very strong magi have been able to use compulsion to force some Carpathians to bend to their will. Not for long periods. What charms are you talking about? I want them on you, them, the symbols on the whole damned house. This, it can’t happen again. I won’t have it.”

“It’s a Saint Benedict medal. There are also a few other symbols that can be used to protect against possession. Probably we can find some at any religious shop that has Catholic rosaries and St. Christopher medals and the like. Though it really needs to be in silver to be most effective. I’ve got my charm in my pack. Didn’t figure I’d need it here,” Sam said, giving a small grimace. “But if they’re trying to prepare me for some sort of demon possession, maybe I better go with something more permanent than a necklace that can be yanked off. I’m sure Bobby will know symbols we can put on the house to help.”

“You will all be wearing them before the night is out,” Dean gave a nod. “Me, too,” he added. “There are some priests who have forged friendships with our people. It should be easy enough to get what we need. Eat,” he pointed at Sam’s plate with his chin. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“I’m eating. And I’ve got my soda,” Sam said, nodding to the can he hadn’t gotten around to opening yet. He picked it up and opened it, then took a long guzzle from it. “Huh. Thirstier than I realized. Maybe some ice water would be good when I finish this off. So Carpathians don’t have any trouble wearing crosses or anything? What about vampires?” 

“Did I mention _not evil_?” Dean demanded, giving Sam a look.

Sam felt his cheeks color. “Sorry, the lore about vampires is just kinda ingrained.” He added hastily, “Not that you’re a vampire. I get that. My brain just doesn’t always--I’m eating now,” Sam said and began shoveling food into his mouth so he was less apt to put his foot in his mouth.

“Good idea,” Dean grumped, but was more amused than he looked. He drummed his fingers on the table, unconsciously playing a beat he’d heard streaming from Sam’s mp3 player. “So they got you to Romania by making sure you won this lottery. They had your itinerary and they want to steal your body. This anti-possession charm, is it foolproof?” Thinking of all the risks to his lifemate, he dry scrubbed his face. “We have to get you out of here. Out of Romania.” 

“Nothing is foolproof. The can break the cord the charm hangs from. A tattoo they can burn off. Even if I somehow got something inside of me, like swallowing a charm or something, I’m sure they could figure out a way to rip it out. Obviously, we’re not dealing with an idiot of a demon. And we’re not leaving Romania until you’re cured of that poison by your Carpathian doctor or healer and until you’ve talked with your prince about it. I’m not more important than everyone else. I can hang here for a few days until they get back. I’ll just stay in the house. I can watch movies or something. Read some of your old books. You can teach me Romanian and Carpathian.”

“I don’t want you here,” Dean said, his eyes locked with Sam’s. “I want you out of harm’s way. Now.” Already, he was sifting through Sam’s mind, trying to find what the safest place would be, according to hunters who were used to dealing with demons.

Sam set down his silverware and met Dean’s gaze, a stubborn look entering his own eyes. “I’m not running. You want me protected. I get that. We leave here and I’m never gonna be safe. Here, now, we know something is coming for me. I go into hiding then it could show up in two months or ten years out of the blue and simply grab me and take me. No. I am not going to spend my life hiding.”

“We’ll come back, after you turn and get a handle on your Carpathian skills,” Dean insisted. “Or maybe, they’ll lose interest in you when you’re no longer human.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Sam said firmly. “And I’m not letting you leave until that poison is taken care of so you can turn me.”

“That poison is just a small thorn in my side. Sam. Sam...” Blowing a hot breath of air out, Dean sliced his hand through the air in frustration. 

Sam’s eyes grew dark. “Don’t you _dare_ try to glamour me or whatever you did to the hotel staff. I will never forgive you for that. And that poison is what is stopping you from turning me so it’s not just a small thorn. It’s a big fucking wooden stake in your heart.”

Dammit, Sam had read his mind. All these times when he’d begged him to stay in his mind, he had to choose now. Pushing away from the table, Dean began to pace. _You should trust my judgment._ A muscle throbbed in his jaw.

“I trust your judgment. I recognize the danger. I do. To both of us. You get that poison taken care of and we can go anywhere you want right away.” Sam rubbed a hand over his own face. “Dean, I can barely stand it when you’re in the ground and I’m awake. I can’t stand the thought of being in America for who knows how long, with you here. I’ll go crazy or worse.”

Striding over to Sam, standing slightly behind him, Dean closed his arms around him and touched his forehead to Sam’s temple. He held him like that as he got his emotions under control and allowed himself to admit Sam was right. That the distance between them would be torture on both of them. Worse on Sam because he wasn’t raised to expect separation agony. “Alright,” he said gruffly. “Alright, we’ll do this together.” 

Sam rested his hand across Dean’s arms and leaned his head against Dean’s. “Won’t lose you now. Can’t lose you now. When will your prince and that healer guy get here?” he asked, relieved Dean was actually listening to him. He was so accustomed to his opinions merely being dismissed out of hand, that it warmed his heart that much more towards Dean.

“Soon. Within a few days. I’ve tried to find out where they are, so we could join them but with the anti-vampire fanatics having stepped up their operations, everyone is more cautious.” He kissed Sam, then took a seat. “You won’t leave the house tomorrow, and I won’t go to ground.

Sam nodded. “You can go to ground. It’s okay. I swear I won’t answer the door, let anyone in, I’ll stay clear of windows, everything.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “I spent most of my early years doing exactly that. If you show me where you go to ground at I could always sit a few hours down there, listen to my music or play on the computer. I’d be okay with that.” Giving a mischievous smile he said, “I could even set up some plant lights down there, plant some flower seeds or something for you.”

“I am not going to ground, and you are not planting things right on top of me.” The air stirred slightly, and Sam’s tee shirt suddenly bore a St. Benedict stamp. 

Sam laughed at Dean’s irritation at the threat of planting flowers over him, and at the sudden appearance of the symbol on his t-shirt. “I guess I better call Bobby before he buys a ticket to come here and kick your ass. Would you check the fridge to see if Maria made any dessert?” 

“You can ask her shortly, she is yelling at her husband about all the bruises he’s sporting. Ivan’s back.” Grinning, Dean got up and headed for the kitchen anyway.

“Huh. I might actually get to see Maria without being at full mast for a change,” Sam murmured under his breath. _And don’t you dare get any ideas._

Dean’s laughter echoed through the house.

* * *

After Sam finished his meal, they went to meet with Father Petre, a priest in his early thirties. The priest supplied them with coin-sized silver charms with the patron saints they needed. He and Sam hit it off, and before they left, Father Petre promised to visit them in the next few weeks. 

When they’d returned home, Dean was surprised to find Ivan waiting up for them. Sitting at the dinner table with them, he’d told them everything he knew, which wasn’t much. Only that the demon who’d taken possession of his body was following the orders of another, powerful demon. Interestingly, on pain of their own death or expulsion to hell, the demons were ordered to make sure Sam was kept alive. Ivan also said that the demon had known about Carpathians and had been leery about reporting Dean’s nature, which it had learned from Ivan, to his superior. 

Once he’d given them everything he knew, Ivan started to apologize again. Dean shook his head to stop him, as he walked the man to the door. “It was out of your control, Ivan, and there is no reason for apologies. These are for you and for Maria. They will protect you, but you must wear them at all times. Preferably where they can’t be seen or snatched off.”

Thanking him for the protective charms, Ivan moved around Dean. “Samuel. I....” he opened his arms wide and, at a loss for words, dropped them to his side. 

Sam gave Ivan an understanding smile. “Ivan, it wasn’t you. It was the demon. You had absolutely no control over what happened and I know that. Though if I toss you a bottle of holy water to sample next time I come to pick you up in the middle of nowhere, humor me and drink some of it.” He gave Ivan a wink. “So don’t feel guilty and don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have stopped what the demon did any more than you could stop the sun from rising.”

“It makes my skin crawl, knowing that thing was inside me.” Ivan gave a shudder. “Thank you. Oh, the sacks of salt you requested, they are in the kitchen.”

Dean practically shoved the man out of the house. “Take tomorrow off. Completely. I mean it,” he said, giving Ivan a look and waving him off.

“Maria, too!” Sam yelled after Ivan. He could certainly cook for himself for a few days, though she had been spoiling him. “It’s going to take us forever to salt every window, door, entrance and stuff. But I guess that’s one way to learn my way around this place.” He gave a sudden yawn. It had been an exhausting day. “Why don’t I do that tomorrow and you and I go curl up by the fire and watch a movie? Or you could regale me with tales of Carpathians. I better start learning their history.”

“Let’s salt the bedroom suites. Later, I can dip you in water and powder you with salt. Or maybe we should fill the tub with it and you just won’t move out of it tomorrow,” Dean dead panned.

“Hah hah,” Sam said, giving him a sour look as he headed for the kitchen. “I think I’ll go gallivanting around the countryside tomorrow,” he said lightly as he grabbed a sack of salt and threw it over his shoulder. “Yep. I’ll go see all the sights while you’re sleeping. Go to that hunter’s Walmart you showed me, go to the pub and see if drop-dead gorgeous guy is there...” He gave Dean a big grin, showing off his dimples.

“And you thought _I_ wasn’t funny,” Dean grumbled, giving him a dark look as he followed. “And who said I’m sleeping the entire day away? We don’t need twelve hours of sleep any more than humans do.” Though he hadn’t admitted it, the poison in his system had taken a toll on him, which was one reason he’d taken to sleeping most of the day. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I expect sex at least some of those hours,” Sam said nonchalantly, a smirk tugging at his lips, though he knew if the two of them were in the same bed--hell, in the same room, sex was bound to happen.   
All it seemed to take was one hot look from Dean and suddenly they were crushing their lips together, then their bodies.

Dean’s gaze moved down to Sam’s ass. He stayed at the bottom of the stairs and enjoyed the view as Sam climbed upwards. “I’m counting on it. Or should I have said ‘freakin’ counting on it?” 

Sam broke into laughter. “I think that all depends on your tone. ‘Freaking’ kicks it up a notch and kind of moves it into the playful zone. Without it, it’s suaver and sultrier. If you say it that way.” He tossed an amused look over his shoulder. “Either is good cause sex with you is freakin’ awesome.” He climbed the last few stairs and reached their bedroom. He cut open the corner of the bag and began pouring salt around the entire room.

“It sounds better when you say it,” Dean said, his mouth pulling down at the corners with the pronouncement. “I’ll never say that word again.” Stepping over the salt line, he commented, “you’re really going to have Maria wondering about you.” 

Stepping across the room, Dean opened the windows and stared out for a moment, before turning back. “You must be tired. Let me do that.”

Giving a shrug, Sam shook his head. “That’s okay, I’ve got it. It wouldn’t matter how tired I was, when Dad and I reached a motel, salting the doors and windows was my job while he brought in the weapons for cleaning. It got to the point it was just habit, not even a chore. Sometimes I kinda feel naked if I don’t have the salt lines down. Of course, in the States, I pretty much always have salt lines down.” Sam was being extra thorough with laying the salt along every wall. Places like this surely had secret passageways. If they didn’t, he’d be sort of disappointed. “It was weird thinking I’d be on vacation and wouldn’t have to worry about salt and holy water and having weapons at hand. I shoulda known it was too good to be true. Winchester luck pretty much sucks ass like that. Always has.”

“And yet you won’t give the hunting life up,” Dean noted. “It’s in your blood. You’d miss it,” he said. 

“I tried to get out of it when I was younger, but crap always pulled me back in. Now? Yeah, I’ve accepted it’s just what I’m meant to be. I can’t read news articles and see the weird crap without thinking that I need to investigate, to make sure no one else gets hurt. I’d miss the helping, the saving. And maybe miss putting evil sons-of-bitches down permanently. But when this is all over and I’m turned and the demons and vamps are handled, can we go on a real vacation? One where no fighting for survival is required? Maybe, I dunno, Rome or something. Just be tourists, hold hands, kiss often, visit museums and stuff. I’d like that. A lot.” He chuckled. “I guess I’m asking for a honeymoon. Do Carpathians do honeymoons?” 

“Huh? Hold on, I’m still on--” _Kiss often._ Dean made the words echo in Sam’s mind as he showed him an image of being kissed within an inch of his life, against a wall, on a romantic narrow street in Venice.

Sam broke into laughter. “You’re incorrigible.” He sent Dean back an image of them in the catacombs of the colosseum in Rome, chasing each other in hide and seek and Sam finally catching Dean and tongue fucking him senseless as he rubbed up against him.

“Hurry up with that salt and get over here,” Dean practically growled, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed, and staring at Sam with the heat of a thousand fires burning in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Changing gears, Dean took the sharp curve like a pro, then glanced at Sam’s handsome profile. _Keep biting your lip like that and I’m turning the car around,_ he threatened, his heart skipping a beat.

_Keep driving at this insane speed and I’m gonna need new pants before we get there,_ Sam answered, gripping the door handle white-knuckled. His gaze was locked on the road and the green of the scenery around them. He didn’t dare look at the speedometer.

“If you need new pants, I’ll be sure it’s not because of my driving,” Dean shot back with a wink, though he slowed down a little. 

“Dean! We’re meeting your prince! We’ve already had sex four times this evening! I’m nearly worn out and nervous as hell anyhow. Don’t you dare embarrass me in front of your fellow Carpathians. I still remember that nickname you don’t want me calling you in front of them, _Mouse._ ”

“Four times.” Dean looked impressed. Taking his hand off the wheel, he reached for Sam’s and brought it to his mouth, kissing it. “Like I said, keep it up with your lips and I’m not responsible.” _There is nothing to be nervous about. They’re family. Just pretend they’re Bobby._

Sam gave a snort. “They’re going to be nothing like Bobby. They’re Old World and I'm a new age baby rebel. A mouth-breathing Cro-Magnon human hunter barely out of diapers as far as they’re gonna be concerned. And--and you’re not going to be able to have kids now and--fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick.” Sam felt his stomach twisting in his gut. He hadn’t chewed his nails since he was six, but he had the sudden urge to take back up that bad habit.

“I haven’t had kids for thousands of years, nothing’s changed. Other than, they’ll have you to thank for me still being here. I doubt I would have seen another fifty years. I was that close to the edge. I know it. They know it,” he said, brushing Sam’s mind, soothing him. “Stop worrying. I command it,” he said, sensing Sam’s distress rising. 

“What? You had kids? Are they still alive? You didn’t tell me you’d been married!” Sam said, sudden jealousy flaring inside him. “And don’t you be trying to order or command me about! You should know by now all that’ll get you is no sex or kissing!”

“Sam... Sam!” Dean abruptly pulled the car over into the dirt shoulder and pulled the hand brake. Turning, he cupped Sam’s chin and looked into his eyes. “I’ve never been married. Never had kids. If I had, you would have seen it in my mind. I don’t hide things from you,” he said. “You’re my lifemate. If I command you, it is _always_ for your own good.” His gaze dropped to Sam’s lips. With a thought, he had both their lips burning, but sensing Sam’s mood, he merely chuckled and released him.

Sam grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and pulled him into a possessive kiss. _You have so many memories of so many things, I’ve barely begun to scratch the surface of them._ When he broke the kiss he glared at Dean. “And as far as commanding me, just get that right out of your head. I will be pissed as hell, even if it is for my own good. You don’t get to make that choice.”

“It’s in my nature,” Dean whispered huskily, his mouth still burning from the kiss. _You’ll get used to it._ Slanting his mouth over Sam’s, he stole a kiss, then sat back. _Just as I’ll have to get used to your glares. Only a handful of people look at me that way._

Resting his hand on the gear, he asked. “If I made love to you right here and now, would it relax you?”

Sam ran the fingers of his left hand through Dean’s hair. “Nothing will relax me at the moment. I’d rather just… you know… get there and get this awkwardness over with. I’m sorry I’m wound up so tightly about it. It’s just so much to take in and I’m just overwhelmed.” He briefly wrapped his hand over Dean’s on the gearshift. “Let’s get there. I don’t want to be late.”

“You’re right. Let’s just get there, and you’ll see you’re worrying over nothing.” Giving Sam an encouraging smile, he glanced at the mirror, and they were on the road again. 

No more words passed between them. Only brushes of each other's minds. He hadn’t made Sam completely his yet, but already the bond between them was strong, and neither could stand to be alone in his mind.

When he turned off into a private road, he nodded his head to a castle nestled in the hills. “This is where Mikhail Dubinsky calls home, at least for official business.” 

Sam gazed at the beautiful structure. He’d seen plenty of pictures of castles but this was different, refined and elegant. “It’s magnificent,” Sam breathed. He would have reached over and taken Dean’s hand if Dean didn’t need it for the gear shift. “Do Carpathians have official weddings, or need their weddings blessed by the prince? Do I address him as Prince Dubrinsky or ‘your highness’ or what?”

“No. We select our own mates, those of us who are lucky enough to find them. You don’t understand the strength of the bond between you and me. It’s sacrosanct. No one is allowed to interfere with it.” The large gates opened for them, and after driving around the long driveway, he pulled in front of the entrance. Getting out of the car, Dean walked around and stood near the passenger side as Sam got out. “Did I tell you how handsome you look?” he asked, just as he felt the doors behind him open.

Sam felt his cheeks color slightly both from the way Dean looked at him and because he felt so out of place being at a royal castle as a guest. “Yes. Half a dozen times,” he murmured and swallowed hard as he faced the large, decorative opening doors.

“Come.” Even though he wanted to kiss Sam until Sam forgot everything else, he merely took his hand and started walking toward the opening door. 

A petite woman with long dark hair and a quick smile pushed past a tall imposing figure, and ran out to greet them. 

“Mikhail’s lifemate, I believe,” Dean said, his eyes widening when she threw her arms around him in a hug and ignored her lifemate’s deep scowl. Dean cleared his throat. “Ahhh...”

“I have heard so much about you, Dean. I’m Raven, welcome, and don’t mind Mikhail’s dark looks.” She rolled her eyes and stepped back. She gave Sam a smile, then dipped her head, to look inside the car for another passenger.

When the truth dawned on her, she met Sam’s eyes. “Well, now I have hope that some of these Carpathian lugs are from the 21st Century. Welcome,” she said, pulling him into a hug, even as Dean’s blood started to boil. 

_Pull away without hurting her, when you can,_ Dean mentally commanded.

“Don’t mind Dean’s dark looks either. Are all of them like that with their lifemates?” Sam asked, hugging her back gently. She was so small compared to his height, he was almost afraid of breaking her. He smiled at her and gave a slight bow as he stepped back. “It’s an honor to meet you Princess Raven, Prince Mikhail. I, uh, am completely out of my depth meeting with royalty, so forgive any faux-paus I might make. The same goes for Carpathian traditions. I’m just a kid from Kansas, USA, and lacking in all knowledge of formal, uh, stuff.” He glanced back at Dean and took his hand again. 

Dean exchanged nods with Mikhail, who then gave him a hug. “It has been too long, old friend. But you are welcome, as is your lifemate.” Stepping back, he shook Sam’s hand, but released it quickly. “It’s just Mikhail and Raven, and it is a pleasure meeting you.”

“Come in,” Raven nodded toward the door, and was then swept inside by Mikhail as she called over her shoulder to Sam, “and yes. They’re _all_ that way.”

Sam glanced at Dean. “Well, I always was a tradition breaker.” He leaned over, planted a light kiss on Dean’s cheek and then entered the castle.

He stood for a moment inside the doors, gaping at the marble floors, the massive spiral staircase, ebony railings snaking along its length, and the crystal chandelier that hung in the entranceway casting light in all directions. Dean’s home--their home--was fancy beyond comparison, but this? He was suddenly really glad Dean wasn’t the prince or higher nobility or whatever. _If I ever say our house is too big or fancy, just remind me of this place, okay?_ Sam told Dean.

Dean merely smirked but sobered when another man walked into the entry hall. “Gregori!” Grinning, Dean slapped the man on the back. “So, it still hurts to smile?” he joked. _Don’t worry, he’s friendlier on the inside. Especially now that he’s found his lifemate._ “This is Sam,” he said, as the others led them towards a large living room.

“And I have not seen you grin like a fool since you were young,” Gregori said, his silver eyes calm. Gregori gave a nod to Sam. “Beware of this one, Sam, he has always liked to stir up trouble.”

Sam did a double-take. “Mr. I’m so serious and protective? Really?” He grinned at Dean. “I can’t wait to hear the tales.”

“Staying up late is ‘trouble’ to Gregori.” Dean laughed, “and where is your lifemate? We had hoped to meet her,” he said, pulling Sam along with him to one of the large sofas.

“Savannah is nearby. She is heavy with child and tires easily.” His silver eyes took on a slight sparkle. “She bears twins. Both female. And I imagine they will be as much of a handful as their mother. Raven refused to be absent at the birth of her grandchildren, hence the time it took all of us to return together.”

So Gregori was mated to the daughter of Mikhail and Raven? It was going to take some time for Sam to learn how everyone fit in. He would file away every scrap of information as it came to him.

“It is a time of celebration as our daughters will save two more of our kind from the dawn. I had thought I might end up with you as my son-in-law in the future, Dean. You can’t imagine my relief when I heard the news you had found your lifemate.” Gregori gave Sam the barest of smirks. “I’ll admit, I did not expect...,” he gave a nod to Sam, “but it makes sense. You are one of our finest hunters. It would be a loss to our race if you were constrained to a more sedentary life. With Sam, you will be able to continue to defend our people, if that is your choice, of course.”

“Hey now, watch what you say or Savannah will hear of it,” Raven bristled. “You would think there were no women warriors at all. And maybe if our lifemates let us--”

Dean chuckled but knew better than to agree with Gregori out loud, at least yet. He didn’t know Raven well enough and did not want to stir up the hornet’s nest. “Your daughters are definitely safe,” Dean said, clearly more than content with his own choice of mate.

“You have been together more than a week, and--” Mikhail turned his gaze to Sam. “Are you reluctant to turn?”

“Mikhail leave him alone. Give him time,” Raven said. “You’d think making the choice is as simple as choosing between a potato chip and a tortilla chip.”

“A what?” Dean asked warily, wondering if he was being compared to something ghastly.

Sam sent Dean images and the tastes of what Raven meant while he chuckled. “It’s… complicated. No, I didn’t want to turn,” he admitted. “First, I ran. Then I wanted a few months to see, you know, what it was like being with Dean. But he can’t wait. He’s too close. I...I finally agreed, though, yeah, still kind of unnerved. I’m a hunter. My father was too. He was killed by vampires--the type in America, not Carpathians-gone-bad. Still, becoming something supernatural when I’ve hunted the supernatural all my life--everything that I hunted was evil. Wendigos, ghouls, ghosts gone over the edge into madness, things like that. But Dean and I have talked a lot, spent a lot of time together and I don’t think I could leave him now even if I wanted to. And I don’t. Want to leave him. I feel more complete with him in a way that I’ve never felt before.” He looked over at Dean and smiled, then that smile faltered. “But he hasn’t turned me for a reason. That’s his tale to tell, though.”

“Playing hard to get?” Mikhail raised a brow. 

“What can I say, I like getting chased. And Sam chases me up the...” He trailed off at the look Sam directed his way.

“Egos. They _all_ have egos,” Raven confided. 

“Wait, before Dean tells his story, I’d like to know. Were you hunting Dean? Did you trap more than you bargained for? That would be quite the tale,” Mikhail said.

Sam shook his head. “I was on vacation. I won a trip to Romania. I was hiking, came across a cave, and then suddenly I hear this voice in my head telling me to get the hell out of there. I listened--which is rare for me, isn’t it?” he said, glancing at Dean with a smirk. “Then he shows up at the bar where I’m with a potential date, drinking, and he gets all possessive and tells me to get rid of the guy who’s touching me, and to stop drinking.”

“Been there. They can get quite ‘caveman’ over that,” Raven piped in, giving her own lifemate a look, but melting at the look he shot back at her.

“Then the shit blew up the bottle of top shelf whiskey that was filling my glass. Kinda went downhill from there. And he has an annoying habit of making my favorite clothes disappear, replacing them with monkey suits worth more than anything I’ve ever owned. I like flannel and t-shirts and torn up jeans and sweats. He’s not quite ‘this worldly’ yet as to wear sweats. But I’m working on him.” He bumped his leg into Dean’s and interlaced their fingers as he smiled at him, this time his gaze lingering. “I did teach him a new word. ‘Hunkalicious.’”

_I like naked. That’s worldly._ Dean tightened his fingers around Sam’s and almost forgot his surroundings until he heard Gregori’s unsubtle cough. 

“Where’s Dracori?” Raven asked. “Should I go check on him?”

“I’m sure he’ll be along.”

“Dracori is here?” Dean asked. “This I wasn’t expecting. The last I heard, no one knew where he was and he didn’t want to be found.”

“Everything’s changed. He found his lifemate. We were close to losing him, as well,” Mikhail said gravely.

Gregori nodded. “We’ve been close to losing many since the dark magic was worked against our women to prevent them from having female offspring. If not for the humans who are psychic, if they were unable to be turned, our race would surely be beyond hope.”

Sam recalled some of the tales Dean had told him or that he’d read in Dean’s mind about how regular, non-psychic humans went mad if they were turned. And of course, about the way the Carpathian men were losing themselves to darkness since they couldn’t find lifemates to ground them, and to bring them back into the light. 

“I always sort of believed the universe puts you where you’re supposed to be, when you’re supposed to be there. It’s up to you what you do with it.” Sam was talking about himself, being at the cave. He glanced at Dean. “I don’t think I’ve seen Dracori in your memories have I? Though I kinda have trouble keeping so many faces straight.”

“I had thought him lost.” Dean gave a nod. “We weren’t close, but he’s a good man. He had to put his own father down when he wasn’t yet seven years old. No one believed it.”

Sitting back, Dean looked at the group. “I bring news that is less happy. The reason I’m here, the reason I came back to Carpathia.” He licked his lips. “I was captured.”

Raven’s head reared up. From personal experience, she knew exactly who he meant. The human butchers, an evil secret society who hunted Carpathians. They’d nearly killed her when she was with child.

“They’ve developed a poison. It’s bad. So bad, I haven’t been able to expel all of it from my system. It causes paralysis. Pain like a sonofabitch.” As he explained what he’d gone through, he spoke dispassionately, like it was a distant memory. But all of them knew if the poison had been strong enough to almost kill him, a seasoned and ancient warrior, it spelled trouble. “I’ve collected some of it in its purest form.”

Gregori’s deep scowl was almost frightening to behold though his voice was level and dispassionate. “Give it to me. Your body was unable to produce an antitoxin to it?” 

“And I’ve been going to ground almost every night. It hasn’t helped. I expel a trace amount every few hours or it gets... uncomfortable,” he admitted, though he’d protected Sam from sensing his pain when it came. It paled in comparison to the pain he’d been in when he’d been a captive, so it hadn’t been worth talking about.

Digging into his jacket pocket, Dean pulled out three vials filled with black liquid. “They’re labeled. The first time I expelled, and then a few more times. I have more at home, but wasn’t certain how helpful additional samples would be.”

Raven got up and walked to the window, only to be followed by Mikhail who soothed her. “My wife has suffered at their hands,” he explained.

“Many have,” Gregori said, but his tone indicated it didn’t diminish what Raven had endured. “I will investigate this, I will find something to protect us all. Once I have examined it Dean, I will cleanse you of it so you can claim Sam properly.

_Oh you’ve claimed me,_ Sam said to Dean privately. _On the stairs, in the pool, in the car, in the garden, on the roof…._

As Dean smirked, he knew that the others realized he and Sam were having their own private conversation. _We’ll have to try against the car. I see that look you get every time you see the Bugatti_ “Can you rid me of it today?” Dean asked. 

Gregori gave a hesitant nod. “Tonight, we’ll try. I will need to take some of it in, break it down, analyze it. If I do not do that first, it will be significantly harder to rid you of it. Mikhail, I will likely need your aid when healing Dean, if this poison is truly as potent as he indicates it is. And I must be careful. It would be best to place Savannah in the ground while I do this, so she is not disturbed by it.”

_Against the car would be good,_ Sam readily agreed. _Why did you hide the pain from me? Maybe I could have helped somehow._

_I told you, it is nothing but a scratch._ “Raven, can you keep Sam occupied and out of trouble when Gregori works on me. I’d rather he--”

“Of course,” she said, glancing at Sam.

Sam glared at Dean but didn’t argue. He had seen in Dean’s memories what was involved. He’d be useless, just sitting there, watching as apparently nothing visible occurred and listening to the chanting. Besides, since Raven had been the first human converted successfully, it would probably do him good to sit and have a long talk with her, asking her all the questions that ate at him and that Dean couldn’t help with. Likely, she could allay many of his fears. At least, he hoped she could.

“Good. Then why don’t we get to know each other, while Gregori takes care of Savannah?” At Mikhail’s words, Raven rejoined them, and immediately dragged Sam into conversation, getting more details from him about himself.

* * *

Several hours later, Raven and Sam sat in the library talking. She’d brought a platter of h’orderves in for him, as well as a carafe of wine. Her own wine goblet was filled with scarlet liquid and she was thrilled to see that he didn’t seem bothered.

“One thing that drew me to Mikhail was the _quiet_ ,” she said. “When I was human, when I touched others, I heard a constant chatter in my head. Their thoughts. It was too much. I don’t get that from Carpathians. Tell me, why is it silent when I touch you?” 

“I built up shields to keep everything out. I have visions, sometimes I can even be telekinetic if I’m really freaked or panicked about something. Dad sorta beat it into me--not literally--that I needed to hide my abilities. We knew a telepath. She taught me how to shield and I guess I’ve just kept piling up the walls ever since.” He gave a small smile and took a drink of wine. “Kinda pissed Dean off that I was able to just completely shut him out when he made me mad.”

She threw her head back and laughed, shaking her head in understanding as Sam continued.

“I built the walls but I never expected to have to tear them down. It was a real struggle to figure out how to merge with Dean. He thought I was being stubborn.” He grinned. “Maybe I was, a little.” He popped some cheese into his mouth and chewed and swallowed. “He’d really freak, I think, if he knew I could still totally cut him off. Not that I would. I can’t seem to go more than a few minutes without needing to reach out and brush his mind, to know I’m not alone, that he’s okay. It’s weird. But my life was always weird. ...Do you ever regret becoming Carpathian? Do you miss the sun? Eating chocolate? Drinking coffee? Just being… normal?”

“All those questions, it brings back everything,” she said closing her eyes for a moment. “The doubts. The fears. Wondering if I was on drugs even thinking about it.” She looked over at Sam. “My first time, it was... well, I’d been injured and was near death. Mikhail had to give me his blood when I was unconscious. I would have taken it eventually, but the decision was forced on us.” She shrugged her slender shoulders and twirled the stem of the goblet.

“The answer is ‘no.’ I haven’t missed it, not even for a moment. There is so much that we can’t see or hear or smell or sense, so much that I was unaware of as a human. The sun,” She waved her hand, “the tinted windows allow us to see the sun. And early in the morning or late in the day, before the sun sets, you can still walk outside with sunglasses on, if you manage to be awake. Longer in the winter months, depending on where you are in the world. You might find you can still eat vegetables and fruit. As for chocolate,” she gave a low laugh. “Well, you know what’s better than chocolate.”

Sam chuckled. “Is ‘insatiable’ synonymous with all Carpathian guys? Dean seems to think I’ve got the stamina that he does. Sorry, probably TMI but I just--it’s sort of a relief to have someone to talk to who really gets it and understands what’s going through my head. Dean tries to understand, but he just doesn’t. Just like I don’t really get his desperation. I know it's the beast’s but it’s still hard to fully grasp. And I might babble when I’m nervous, sorry.” Sam took a deeper sip of the wine. “I can’t feel Dean. It’s unnerving. I know he’s okay but I want to jump up and go into the other room and just shake him until he opens his eyes and looks at me and tells me it’s okay, that he’s going to be okay.”

“Why don’t you go take a quick look,” she suggested. “And never mind his order, if you need to see him, you need to see him. Then meet me in the living room. I’ll give you a tour of the stables if you like horses.” Standing up, she started to place everything on a tray. “They’re upstairs. One story up, at the end of the hall.”

Sam brightened and didn’t have to be told twice. He hurried to the staircase and took the stairs two at a time. At the second story he headed down the long hallway. He expected to be able to hear the chanting, but it was silent. Dean stepped out of a room to Sam’s right, startling Sam. “You’re done? You’re okay?” Sam practically gushed and threw his arms around Dean, kissing him. 

“Course I’m okay. Didn’t I tell you? Scratch,” Dean chuckled, closing his arms around Sam and practically rushing him back to the stairs. “Missed you. Let’s take five,” he said huskily, pulling Sam up the stairs.

“Insatiable,” Sam laughed and let Dean guide him. He reached for Dean’s mind but found it still shut to him. “I can’t hear you. Is that an after effect of the healing or something?” he asked almost worriedly. “How soon will it come back?”

“We’ll reconnect. I need to concentrate,” Dean said as they reached a bay window and looked outside. “I concentrate better when...” he pulled Sam into his arms.

*

It was strange being alone in his mind. It reminded him too much of the starkness of his life in the centuries before Sam. A small sound of complaint passed between his teeth as Gregori moved through his body, burning out the remnants of the poison. He’d blocked Sam, to prevent him from suffering, but for Dean, the separation pained him more than Gregori’s efforts to free him. 

_Patience, I’m nearly done,_ Gregori soothed, grimly determined to make certain every last molecule of the poison was eradicated from Dean’s body. He was unsure of what the poison might do to a human being converted and he would not risk Dean through carelessness because Dean was impatient to be back with his lifemate. He did a slow final sweep and finally sagged in the chair as he withdrew from Dean. He took the blood Mikhail offered, nearly exhausted by the ordeal. _It’s done. Don’t sit up too quickly,_ he cautioned Dean.

“You’re getting slow in your old age,” Dean said, ignoring Gregori’s advice, and paying for it when he sat up and a sharp pain had him putting his hand over his eyes and forehead. “Sonova...” He let out a few breaths and looked over to see Gregori feeding from Mikhail’s wrist.

_Perhaps you grow deaf in your old age,_ , Gregori said, noting Dean’s reaction. _I would advise you to take a few minutes before you stand. Not that you’ll listen to that advice either._

_If you’d start giving advice I like..._ Just as Gregori predicted, Dean did not enjoy the results of standing up without pause. “Fuck...” His eyes were reproachful in the face of his friends’ amusement. “What do you make of the poison? Is it something we’ll be able to combat?” Dean asked, killing a little time until he was completely free from pain before he allowed Sam into his mind. Anxious to see him, his eyes darted to the door, then back.

Gregori finally released Mikhail’s wrist and gave a nod of thanks to the prince. “It is genetically modified natural poisons enhanced with magical effects that allow it to replicate like a virus. Once the magical effects are shattered, most should be able to expel or neutralize it, except for the very young. The magical effects, however, must be broken in a specific sequence. Once the sequence is known, older Carpathians will be able to cure themselves fairly quickly. Younger ones may not have the ability.” He glanced at Mikhail. “We will need to train all Carpathians in defense against this poison. Even with training and neutralization, it will cripple most Carpathians for a few minutes most likely, making them vulnerable to those humans who wish us dead. Given time, I may be able to produce an antitoxin of sorts, minimizing the time it incapacitates one of us. I’ll know more with study.” 

Gregori returned his focus to Dean. “The reason you were not able to completely rid yourself of it is because of the viral aspect. You would expel most of it, but that which was left would simply create more. This is also why after a few hours the pain would start up again. Dean? Are you even listening to me?” Gregori asked, feeling the concern building in his friend.

The frown on Dean’s forehead deepened as he pushed harder to get inside Sam’s mind and was met with confusion instead of welcome. A weakness, where there had only been strength before. And a longing... for someone other than Dean.

Dean’s nostrils flared as he pieced the last few minutes of Sam’s experiences together. Kisses. Touches. Sharp pain in the side of his throat. “No!” Dean bellowed as he launched himself for the door that flew open ahead of him. “Sam!” Even at a dead run, Dean knew... he knew it was too late. Someone else had started to convert Sam.

As he chased after Dean, Mikhail mentally asked his lifemate whether Sam was with her. Her answer, that Sam had gone to be with them during the healing, set off all sorts of warning bells. The thought of a vampire attack, here in his own home, was unlikely. Yet Mikhail sent a call out to the others in the castle, to be alert and seek out any evidence an abomination was anywhere close.

Flying up the stairs, Dean saw Sam laying on the chaise lounge at the end of the long hallway, in front of the window. “Sam!” Sam’s arm hung limply down to the floor. In a blur, Dean was at Sam’s side, lifting him up. At the telltale sign of blood splashed across Sam’s lips, Dean’s eyes went dark with cold anger. 

“Who...” Still carrying Sam, Dean turned around, using his senses, trying to find the one responsible. “Where are you! Where are you!” he shouted, prepared to drop his lifemate into Mikhail’s arms if he caught the scent of the one who had started to claim Sam for himself.

Mikhail saw that Sam’s throat was ravaged. The bite was not as neat, the wound not as small as those of their kind would have made, and yet, the damage wasn’t as bad as one would expect from a vampire. “Dean, who did this? I sense no vampire presence.” He mentally summoned Raven, asking her to bring some orange juice, and he brought Gregori up to speed, with the little information he had. 

“Dean,” Mikhail put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, only to have Dean abruptly tear away. 

“I will kill him. I will find him and I will tear him in two.”

“Vamp--”

“Carpathian. It was a Carpathian,” Dean snarled.

Mikhail stilled. He could not, and would not, sanction the killing of one of their kind for trying to claim a mate. But he would want to find out whether Sam was willing. Their kind were very alluring to humans, and maybe... 

Sam’s eyes slid open into slits. Mentally he reached for Dean, but suddenly pulled back, unsure. Dean felt different. But Dean had felt different since the poison had been cleared away. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but his mental shields lifted. He tried to speak but his mouth didn’t seem to want to work. 

“Feel kinda sick. Kinda hungry, but kinda sick,” Sam whispered. “You… the bite… it hurts,” he said, a cross between betrayal and confusion shadowing his eyes. He struggled to stay awake, but something was wrong, so very wrong, he knew it in his gut. He feebly tried to free himself from Dean’s arms.

Dean was near panic as he felt Sam shut him out. His grip tightened, and then Sam’s words got through. “Me?” Dean glanced at Mikhail, licked his lips and slowly set Sam down on the chaise. “It wasn’t me,” he said, his voice gruff with conflicting emotions.

Sam struggled to stay sitting up. He forced his eyes open wider and gave a slight nod. “You met me in the hall. Brought me up here, wanted… you know… and to start the conversion. We started and you bit me so hard, took… a lot. Told me to drink.” He licked his lips, tasting the blood still on them. “I thought you’d be sweet tasting,” he said, his eyes beginning to close. “Then you told me to sleep.” Sam began to fall sideways as sleep tried to reclaim him. 

“Sonova--”

“Dean. Get a hold of yourself, for both of you,” Mikhail ordered, this time closing his hand around Dean’s arm and holding him in place until he got a nod of acknowledgement.

Dropping down to his knees, Dean covered Sam’s open wound with his mouth, then slowly licked across it until it healed. Thoughts of another man touching Sam, taking from him, and feeding him, had the beast raging and snarling. It took everything he had to control himself. Everything. But the ancient chaise didn’t fare too well, the wooden arm he’d been gripping shattering in his fist.


	12. Chapter 12

The veil slowly lifted and Sam reached out mentally for his lover. His mind touched another’s and his fear receded. _I had a nightmare,_ he told Dean. _Where are you? I want you,_ he begged.

Seeing an image of the stables, of them making love in the hay, Sam smiled and started to push himself up but found himself trapped by an arm wrapped around his waist. He looked over his shoulder only to find Dean there, asleep, holding him close.

Gasping, his confusion radiated outward. _Dean?_ he called to the one he had been talking to.

Dean’s jaw throbbed. He’d fought his way into Sam’s mind, but found that someone else had discovered Sam’s mind paths. That someone else whispered in Sam’s mind, the things that only Dean should. _I’m right here. Holding you,_ he answered loudly, aggressively. His hands tightened around Sam, making certain he didn’t follow the call of another. He didn’t know what that person was saying to Sam but could feel his presence. 

“Dean?” Sam asked out loud. He tried to turn in Dean’s arms but Dean was holding him almost painfully tight. “Hey, you’re gonna bruise me,” Sam said. He felt the other presence, the other _Dean_ in his mind retreat, shutting Sam out. It was a painful break, almost brutal, and made Sam wince. “What the fuck? Dean?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Once Sam was fully awake, Dean let him go and slowly sat up. Reaching for the nightstand, he turned the lights on for Sam’s benefit, and twisted around to look at him. “Please let me back in, all the way,” he said almost meekly, trying to burrow deeper into Sam’s mind.

Sam cupped the side of Dean’s face and leaned in, kissing him lovingly and dropped all his shields. _Of course, Love,_ Sam said, suddenly very unsure why he’d had his protections up in the first place against Dean. He broke the kiss and stared into Dean’s beautiful jade eyes. “Uhm, what happened?”

When they were merged at last, Dean gave a sigh of relief. “Someone else claimed... tried to claim you.” They hadn’t only tried, they’d started the process, but Dean couldn’t make himself say the words. “The man you were with when...” Dean looked away, then down for a long moment, before turning back to Sam. “That wasn’t me. Gregori was still extracting my poison when you were with him.” 

Sam paled and felt his gut twist as he tried to shake his head no, but a part of his mind knew Dean spoke the truth. “He just...he just tried to get me to come out to the stables. I was going to go...” He clutched at Dean. “Make me yours Dean. I only want you. Change me,” he demanded, fear clawing at his mind and heart.

_Mikhail, Gregori, the Other is trying to lure Sam to the stables. You have to--_

_On my way,_ was the immediate response from the prince.

Dean’s angry gaze shifted to the window. He would have flown out right there and then, but he couldn’t leave Sam alone. 

“Soon,” he promised, drawing Sam into his arms and holding him tightly. “You need twenty-four hours rest between each...” Again, he couldn’t bring himself to say that someone else had started the conversion. “Let’s get you downstairs, so others can watch you. I may be able to follow the bastard through your mind paths.”

Sam shook his head vehemently. “No! You’re not leaving my side, not until-until I can’t be tricked like that again. How much… control… does the bastard have over me? We exchanged blood. Was he a vampire? Oh, God, could I be turned into a vampire instead of a Carpathian?” Sam asked, the panic rising in him.

“If you let me stay in your mind, I will monitor. I’ll--” As Sam’s fingers bit into him, Dean knew he was stuck. He wasn’t going anywhere near the stable, not now. He’d have to trust the others to get the bastard. “It wasn’t a vampire. He’s a Carpathian. You’re not going vampire, I swear it,” he said, staring into Sam’s eyes and willing him to listen. 

“A-A Carpathian? But why? They know I’m yours, don’t they? I mean, I can’t be a lifemate to just any Carpathian who decides to try to take me. What we’ve got is special, unique, isn’t it?”

“Yes, on all counts,” Dean said. “Until a bond is formed, any Carpathian can court... ideally a Carpathian woman. Now... also a human with psychic powers. If a mental bond is made and they recognize each other as lifemates, like you and I did, it’s over. No one else should intervene.” He licked his lips. It was a difficult concept to explain. “That doesn’t mean that all Carpathians seek their true lifemate. Some will bond with just anyone who is available and capable of accepting a bond. It usually doesn’t turn out well, for anyone.”

There was a sharp knock.

“It’s Mikhail.” Dean gave Sam a heads up, then called out, “Come in.”

Mikhail and Raven walked in and a servant brought a tray in for Sam, and left.

“Dean, it’s Dracori. It makes no sense but Gregori saw him. He gave chase but….” Mikhail shook his head. 

“You told me Dracori has a lifemate,” Dean said in clipped, accusatory tones. 

Sam gripped Dean’s arm. “There were two voices in _his_ head. The other was buried deeply, in the background. I just thought I was overhearing someone else on radio Carpathia. The other voice was agitated, maybe even cursing, but it was in Carpathian or Romanian or some language that wasn’t English. The fake Dean, he didn’t seem to hear it, or if he did, he ignored it, didn’t react to it. Is Dracori gay? Was that his lifemate I was hearing?”

“No, Dracori’s lifemate is female. But you shouldn’t have been able to hear her anyway,” Mikhail said.

“Sam is psychic,” Raven reminded them. “Maybe he can.” She went to pour Sam a glass of orange juice and brought it to him. “You need to keep your strength up.” Turning back to her lifemate, she shook her head. “This makes no sense.”

“What about... has Dracori offered blood to anyone? They should be able to track him,” Dean said.

“We’ve shared blood,” Gregori said as he walked in. “I can’t hear him and I can’t track him. It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never had another be able to block me like this. _None_ of this makes sense.”

“Someone needs to check on Dracori’s lifemate. I will send De La Cruz to see what he can find out from her. He’s in the vicinity of Argentina,” Mikhail noted, already using his mental connections to get the word out.

Sam accepted the orange juice and sipped it, listening to the others, his brow creasing. “Dean, should I be able to block you like I have? Is that normal?”

Dean gave him a disgruntled look, his answer was a clipped, “no.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Raven smiled at Dean’s reaction. “You had to remind him.”

Sam took a deep breath. “You haven’t been able to compel me either, not completely. Dracori did. He made me fall asleep. I think I might know what’s going on.” He saw the expectant faces practically willing him to go on. “I’m pretty sure I’m psychic ‘cause I was fed demon blood when I was an infant. When I was first running from Dean, a vampire tried to take me from the train. Demons came after me after that.”

Mikhail’s gaze snapped to Dean, who hadn’t told them any of this. Dean didn’t flinch from it.

“Then they lured me out of Dean’s--of our house--and forced me to drink demon blood, gallons of it. Can Carpathians be possessed by demons? What if who I heard was Dracori in the background? What if the one who tricked me was a demon, the demon that’s been after me? Maybe the one who fed me blood when I was a baby. That might give him the power to compel me. And if I can block Dean out because of my demon blood, it would make sense that like me, the demon can block everyone out if he’s controlling Dracori. Or am I clutching at straws?”

Now all eyes were on Dean. “I was able to fight the demons off, fight their magic or whatever, but I don’t know for sure what would happen if they tried to possess me.” He looked over at Sam. “When I’m in your mind, merged, I _can_ compel you. I haven’t because of your objections. But Dracori shouldn’t have been able to get in your mind to begin with. Not when you’re my lifemate. He shouldn’t have been able to trick you into thinking he was me.” Dean started to nod, “I think you’re right. We’re not dealing with Dracori.”

“If it is a demon, even _the_ demon, then it should be susceptible to an exorcism. Devil’s traps, too. Maybe Bobby would have some insight into what to do or what’s going on. I can call him and see if he’s found out anything new, and see if he knows if supernatural monst-- uh, people, can be possessed.” He gave an embarrassed look to those in the room. “Sorry. ‘Supernatural’ and ‘thing’ or ‘monster’ or ‘bastard’ was pretty much the only supernatural I’d encountered before Dean. A whole new race of supernatural good guys? It’s like you’re out of a Tolkien-Stoker crossover novel or something and my brain still hasn’t quite gotten up to speed on it.”

“Don’t mind their glares, I thought fangs equal evil, even in a sexy package,” Raven said, seeing Sam’s embarrassment. “It took a while for Mikhail to convince me.”

“What is a crossover novel?” Mikhail asked.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Half of what he says is indecipherable....”

Mikhail, Gregori and Dean laughed at their joint experiences of falling behind some of the modern lingo that their mates were overly fond of. “And don’t mind their glares,” he added, nodding toward Sam and his own lifemate.

“I will learn everything I can from Sam’s mind, about exorcism and these devils traps, and will pass it on to you. Ivan will bring you all some amulets that will protect you from possession. We’ll get Dracori’s mate to help us track him, and then,” Dean’s eyes narrowed, “Sam will be under guard and we will go demon hunting.”

“Not until I’m changed,” Sam insisted. “I don’t want him being able to do anything to me, glamour me, or convince me he’s you. Besides, I’m the experienced demon hunter and that bastard killed my mother. I’m coming with.”

Gregori’s gaze slid between his warrior friend and his newly found lifemate. “Dean, I realize you don’t want to put him in harm’s way, but whether with us or under guard, Sam _is_ in danger. This incident has proven that. There may be wisdom in what he says.” He knew how’d he feel about his Savannah coming on a hunt where the object of their hunt was after her. It didn’t change the fact it made the most sensible choice. 

“It will take two more nights for a full conversion, then he’ll need rest and he’ll be susceptible for at least a day. In the meantime, this demon will still be after him. If we get leads on where it is, we cannot afford to ignore them,” Dean said, simultaneously reading Sam’s mind. Even before Sam spoke, Dean shook his head ‘no,’ his expression hardening. “You are not to play bait. I forbid it.”

“Dean, I’m already bait, just like Gregori said,” Sam argued. “We’d know where it is and maybe control the situation.” Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment he asked, “Is there a way to fool a Carpathian with a glamour? Could Dean pretend to be me while I pretend to be him? That way I’m there, he’d feel it, he’d smell it, but he’d be going after the wrong target.”

Dean shook his head. “Doubtful. Visually, for a few minutes maybe. But he’s formed a Goddamned bond with you. If it’s not you approaching, he will know it.”

“Agreed,” Mikhail said. “We need to find out what it wants with Sam.” He turned to Sam. “Next time it contacts you, play along, find out what its goal is. Find out anything you can. Dean will be in your mind with you and he’ll stop you from doing anything that you’re compelled to, or he’ll help prevent you from getting tricked.”

Dean’s expression turned thunderous at the thought of having to share space in Sam’s mind.

“Right now? The demon appears to want me converted and bound to him,” Sam said. “I mean, he was trying to sucker me out to the barn to have sex and exchange blood again. The demon must not know I need 24 hours in-between blood exchanges. He also took a lot of blood from me, like he didn’t know when to stop or didn’t want to stop. But I can play along. Won’t he sense you, Dean? And… should Mikhail or Gregori have some of my blood so they can track me, too?” Sam asked and immediately pulled his lower lip in to chew on it. He was more than a little unhappy the demon had created a bond between them and he was potentially its puppet.

Raven moved to Mikhail and put an arm around him, her eyes flashing with a warning.

Before the others could speak, Dean answered. “No one is taking your blood, but me.” _For my sanity, do not go offering it to anyone._

“Sam, it wouldn’t help anyway,” Mikhail said. “A Carpathian who accepts blood from _another Carpathian_ can track the one who offered the blood. You’re still human. But our hunting skills are sharp. I’m sure we could track you. As I’m sure that we will find Dracori. I already have reports of traces of him.”

“Where?” Dean demanded.

“I’ll let you know when we have something substantive. You two are welcome to stay. There aren’t many more hours this night,” Mikhail pointed out. “Come downstairs when you’ve learned more about the exorcism rituals and traps.”

Dean gave a grim nod. “We’ll be down in an hour’s time.”

Once the others had left, Sam gripped Dean’s arm. “I want you. I need you to make love to me. Please,” Sam begged, wanting the memories of the fake Dean wiped away with new ones made with his true love.

Dean brought Sam up hard against his frame, holding him in an unbreakable grip. “I want to eradicate him. In every sense,” he ground out, pushing Sam aggressively toward the bed. “It will take everything I have to keep control. You will have to help me. You understand? You have to stay in my mind and make sure I can hear you above the demands of the beast.” 

“I understand,” Sam said, digging deeper into Dean’s mind, digging until he found the beast and embraced it, soothing it, confirming over and over to it that he was Dean’s and only Dean’s. _Can you hear me now?_ Sam asked, chuckling at the joke he knew Dean wouldn’t get as he fell back onto the bed and pulled Dean down with him, locking their lips together and ever so glad Dean could make their clothes disappear with a thought.

* * * 

When Sam and Dean joined the others, the Carpathians spent hours learning about demons, exchanging information with Sam and coming up with contingency plans. After dawn arrived, they separated to get their rest. Before he went to sleep, Dean had extracted a promise from Sam. That Sam wouldn’t leave his side. 

It was almost evening when Dean rose from slumber to find that his arm had left a distinct red band across Sam’s stomach. Muttering an apology, he kissed Sam and made slow love to him. They both needed it, so he ignored the thing that disturbed the air, the thick, heavy sensation that told him all was not well in the world.

Dean wasn’t the only one in the castle to feel the changes in atmosphere that did not bode well. When he and Sam went downstairs, the other Carpathian warriors were already assembled. 

It wasn’t too long before the warriors felt the taint of evil. Mikhail sent his lifemate away, despite her protests. Sensing the coming attack, he was certain his decision had been correct.

*

Four Carpathian warriors, including the prince and Gregori battled seven vampires, two of them master vampires. Dean tried to stay at Sam’s side at the castle, but when reports of human slaughter in numbers unheard of reached them, and when it was clear that the vampires were searching for the Carpathian women, he had no choice but to take to the air and join in the fight.

The battle was waged in the forests and in the mountains and on the outskirts of towns. Dean sensed Sam in his mind, watching, whispering to him when he saw a potential threat. Mostly, Sam kept assuring Dean he was fine. That there was no action at the castle. And that was exactly what Dean needed to hear as he fought and sliced off grotesque vampire limbs, and willingly sustained the burning and peeling skin each time vampire blood splatter across his body.

*

Out of nowhere, Sam felt Dracori’s approach. Dracori was breaking through the protections that warded Sam almost as if they weren’t there. Sam knew he had little time to do something to somehow protect himself from the possessed Carpathian. Already he felt the tendrils of the enemy’s mind worming their way into his, attempting to compel him to come out and meet Dracori. 

Sam fought it, but knew it was futile. He called to Dean, but Dean was too distant, too focused. He found himself climbing the stairs from the basement and passing through rooms, and then walking through the laboratory Gregori used when he was at the castle. 

On the table, he saw the vials of poison that Gregori was testing. The poison wouldn’t hurt him, he was still human and not yet fully converted to a Carpathian. Or so he hoped. He grabbed the biggest vial of the stuff he could find, the whole time fighting his body’s urge to move on, to meet his ‘lover.’ Then he tossed back the poison, swallowing it down, and grabbing some water so the taste would not stay in his mouth.

Faint pain shot through him, and he felt himself grow a little sluggish. It was suddenly impossible to fight the compulsion of the Carpathian Dracori, and he found himself outside, walking quickly into the waiting arms of a man who was Dean’s spitting image. Sam’s eyes filled with love and adoration as the man wrapped his arms around him and they took to the air.

“It was a glorious battle. The others are taking care of clean-up.” Azazel held onto Dean’s form that he’d conjured using his meat suit, Dracori’s, powers. Flying them to a secluded and empty grand home, he landed on a balcony and threw the shutters and doors open with a thought. Then Azazel started walking Sam backwards, through the door, and trapped him up against a desk. 

Leaning in, he cleared the top of the desk with a sweep of his hand and lifted Sam, sitting him on the edge. “I need you,” he said, backing it up with their mind connection, forcing Sam to feel his lust.

“I always need you. I always want you,” Sam whispered, a deep part of his mind screaming this wasn’t Dean, wasn’t his true love. “It’s been a day since the last exchange of blood. It’s safe to do it. For you to take me like that, right?” Sam asked, his fingers running over ‘Dean’s’ face and down his body. “So handsome. So damned gorgeous,” he murmured, even as his mind struggled to throw off the illusion, the compulsion, the lust being fed to him by the false Dean. 

“Yes.” Azazel brought his mouth close to Sam’s and hit him with another bout of lust. As Sam kissed him like he could never get enough, Azazel felt true love for the span of a heartbeat. He almost stumbled back, but then logic and plans that spanned millennia took over. He used his new powers to undress Sam, and then undid his own pants. “I can’t wait until you’re like me,” he said, dragging Sam closer to the table edge and shifting, positioning his dick... Dracori’s... at Sam’s hole.

“I can’t wait either,” Sam managed to get out. Dean’s kiss had been almost rough and the way Dean pulled at him, his fingers digging deeply into flesh, bruising him, made Sam wince. He felt Dean’s cock at his hole but had faith Dean would lube it as he always did. He relaxed his muscles, a part of him surprised at Dean taking him so quickly, with none of the usual foreplay. “The beast is pushing you hard,” Sam said, then gave a cry of pain as Dracori’s unlubed cock slammed inside him, buried to the hilt and had Sam whimpering. For a moment, the pain cleared his mind, but the compulsion on him was stronger than he’d anticipated. Even so, blocking off a part of his mind from Dracori, he reached for his true love. _Dean?_ he begged, praying that the doppelganger in front of him wasn’t his love.

*

_Sam?_ Distracted by Sam’s cry, miles away, Dean allowed the vampire to slip through his defenses and was slammed down into the ground.

*

Suddenly unable to connect mentally with Sam, Azazel unleashed his anger. _Love me. Like before, love me._ His demands grew louder as he fucked Sam harder, and when his commands initially had no effect, he forced his compulsion over Sam, forced him to see him as Dean.

Any will of his own disappeared and Sam responded, giving everything of himself to his lover. Overwhelming lust filled him and he pulled and tugged at ‘Dean,’ groans erupting from him as they kissed. Then he abruptly exposed his neck, sensing his lover was close to coming.

Azazel had drank a lot of demons’ blood, but this damned meat suit seemed to expel the blood too quickly. When he fed Sam, he’d not only move the conversion process along, but he’d also be preparing a permanent body for himself by giving Sam as much of his unadulterated demon blood as remained in the Carpathian body. Still angry at the loss of that initial flash of love, real love that he wasn’t sure he himself had ever felt before, Azazel brought his mouth down over Sam’s jugular and bit down, tearing into tender human flesh like a wild animal. The instant mental feedback of pain and submission was a heady combination for the demon. He drank and drank and would have emptied Sam, if he didn’t need Sam alive. 

Biting down one more time, Azazel came hard inside Sam, taking pleasure in the thought that he was claiming something that wasn’t his. _Now you will feed from me_ , he commanded, lifting his bloody face. He was about to tear a gash in the artery of his arm but… something was wrong. “Wha...” A scream of pain erupted from his--or rather, from Dracori’s mouth.

Sam lay there half-dazed, enough blood taken he was weak and light-headed. When Dean screamed, he struggled to sit up. Dean still rested inside him. His hold on Sam had weakened and Sam no longer saw Dean. Instead, he saw a handsome blond who looked like some Norwegian god, his face twisted in pain. 

_Not Dean,_ his mind latched onto the truth, fighting the lingering compulsions. He pulled away and fell off the desk, crawling towards a doorway. _Not Dean._ His head ached and spun and his arms shook with the effort of reaching the doorway into a hall. From there, he crawled to a stairway, tried to stand, but collapsed and tumbled down. He lay at the bottom of the stairs, naked, trying to make himself rise, trying desperately to get away from the one who had tricked him a second time, to get away from the demon who wanted him.

*

Dean crashed through the shutters and into the old, abandoned house. _Sam?_ he called out, sensing his presence, following the path that his bond with Sam allowed him to see. _I’m coming. I’m almost with you._

Flicking the splintered wood off his shoulder, he rushed through the house and found Sam at the bottom stair, blood streaming from the barbaric gash at his throat. “Sam!” His shout of rage at his mate’s state echoed, reverberating, through the house.

In a heartbeat, he had Sam in his arms and melded their minds together, forcing himself to see what Sam had been through. Too much. Dracori had taken too much blood. Again. And this time, he hadn’t fed Sam. Why? Even as the question vibrated in Dean’s mind, he was leaning over Sam, first healing his wound, and then pressing his own fangs into his neck, making little pin pricks. 

Once again, his lifemate’s blood wasn’t quite right. Dean felt its pull, felt the beast roar inside him with desire. But there was something very wrong. A little demon blood taint and something... something that burned as it slid over his tongue and down his throat.

A few more swallows, and Dean heard Sam’s heart stutter. He had to stop. He pulled his mouth away and fought the beast’s needs, and his biology, which insisted on a proper blood exchange. It couldn’t happen, not now, not after the state Dracori had left his mate in. 

Lifting his head, Dean sliced his wrist open. “Sammy, drink,” he said, cupping Sam’s face with his free hand. “I give my blood freely, I pledge...”

_The fake Dean had found him, was in his head, was trying to manipulate him._ Sam drew on the last of his strength and punched the imposter. “Get away from me!” he shouted and scrambled back from the surprised man. “I poisoned you,” he said, his head spinning again as he weakly tried to climb the stairs to get away. “Drank it all down, the poison, then you drank from me,” he muttered, hardly able to see or think. “Dean,” he whispered, sobs making his shoulders shake. “Love you, only you...” 

Dean’s blood dripped to the floor. He reached for Sam, but only touched him. “No. No baby, it’s me. I’m your lifemate. You have to drink. You have to live,” he said softly. “Sammy.” He started to pull Sam close again. “He’s gone. It’s gone. There’s only you and me.” He repeated the words in Sam’s mind, using their link, showing him things from his past that he’d shown him before. 

Sam saw the images, saw the young Dean who had taunted him to chase after him, saw them together in the train car, and talking to Bobby. Past and present blurred in a myriad of images. Sam turned his head, his eyes half-glazed over. “Dean?” he asked, a few tears running down his face. He reached out with a shaky hand, running his fingers lightly over Dean’s face. He finally nodded. “I’ll drink. I’ll live for you. Only for you,” he said.

When Dean brought his wrist to Sam’s lips, Sam hesitated, feeling the warm liquid run into his mouth. It was sweet like honey, spicy and bold, earthy and ancient, and fresh and new and filled with love. This was how he had expected his lifemate to taste. Not like the ashes in his mouth from before. He pressed his lips firmly against Dean’s wrist, drinking, trusting Dean to tell him when to stop, when he’d taken enough so that they both were safe. He winced though when he felt the poison and Dean’s blood begin to battle inside him. It hurt, but he kept drinking. For his love.

Still merged in Sam’s mind, Dean flinched at Sam’s pain. They were both in pain. He understood the reason now. The poison affected Carpathians, and his blood was fighting the poison. Sam had ingested the poison, and now he was taking Carpathian blood from him. _I’m sorry... so fucking sorry. It... I couldn’t wait until Gregori or Mikhail got here. I had to..._ he whispered, brushing Sam’s mind, soothing him, numbing him to as much of the pain as he could, yet insisting Sam keep drinking. 

_It’s okay. I knew the poison might hurt me. It was the only weapon at hand._ Sam struggled to keep drinking though it was getting harder and harder. _Your blood is sweet, like I knew it should be. But I don’t think I can drink much more._ Sam took a few final mouthfuls then licked over the wound and stopped sucking at it. _Enough. I need sleep,_ Sam begged. _And I think Dracori is still upstairs. He didn’t come after me once he started screaming in pain._

_Dracori._ Wild anger pulsed through Dean. His head tilted to look up the stairs, his eyes darkening with rage. 

Sam gripped Dean’s arm and tried to soothe him. “It wasn’t Dracori, Dean. It was the demon. Don’t blame the man. He had no control over what the demon did.”

Sam pulled back and looked into Dean’s eyes, his own dull, but begging Dean to listen to him. He felt exhausted but dredged up a small smile for Dean. “I’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure his lifemate, then licked the last of the blood from his lips. “Stay with me,” he said, squeezing Dean’s arm.

Dean’s nostril flared, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against his lifemate’s wishes. So he held him close, and protected him as much as he could from the pain caused by the poison. He chanted ancient healing words, willing Sam to be alright, despite the tremendous amount of blood loss. The ancient words healed San’s wounds so that all that remained were bruises that would fade.

*** 

Gregori left Sam’s room, his eyes ever calm, if somewhat tired looking. He’d tended to Dean’s poison first as there was very little in Dean and he could remove that fairly easily, having done it once before. He insisted he work with Sam without Dean being in the same room as it seemed to agitate Sam, Sam reaching out for Dean and fighting Gregori. It didn’t help that Sam was more challenging, not yet being fully converted. The poison liked to try to hide in all sorts of places. He also knew Dean was less than happy about not being there with Sam.

“Your lifemate will be fine with some rest. I would suggest you go to ground for the rest of the night and all of the day. Sam isn’t going to do much but sleep I would imagine, but I’ll keep a close eye on him. If he awakens and needs more than juice or water, I’ll wake you,” Gregori said, even though he doubted Dean would take his advice.

“We’ve put Dracori in the ground for now,” Gregori said, “and once I’m back to full strength, I’ll cleanse him of the poison. The demon is most definitely gone from him and the poison was rather more effective than I’d like to admit. Once Dracori is healed, we can interrogate him as to what he remembers. He was in too much pain to make much sense when we put him to ground.” He jerked his head toward Sam’s room. “He needs you now. Go.”

“You shouldn’t have put him to ground before at least getting something out of him,” Dean growled. 

“That’s not your call, now is it, Dean?” Gregori said mildly, but his eyes held a warning.

“It’s not your mate that that thing is after. If it were, you might see things differently,” Dean shot back, shoving past Gregori, angry at him for things that were his fault, like forcing him out of Sam’s room, and for things that weren’t, like the situation. 

Dean slowed down when he neared the room, and quietly opened the door. Sam looked so damned pale...

Closing the door with a decided click, he pulled a chair close to the bed, and sat facing Sam. Reaching for his hand, he tried to smile. “How many heart attacks do you plan to give me?”

“I’m shooting for five,” Sam said, giving a small smile. “Gotta make sure you’re strong enough to put up with a Winchester for all eternity, you know. We’re stubborn shits.” Sam squeezed Dean’s hand. “Hey, stop looking so worried. Greg said the demon was out of the guy. I bet it isn’t easy to find a Carpathian to possess. And even if the demon does find another Carpathian, it’s got no link to me. I’ll be up raising hell in no time.” He gave a slight tug on Dean’s hand. “Don’t suppose you’d like to snuggle up with me would you? You can tell me a couple Carpathian fairy tales or something.”

Giving a nod, Dean got up and joined Sam on the bed, spooning behind him and never letting his hand go. He brushed his mouth along the side of Sam’s neck in a light kiss, and closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. “I could take it away. The memory,” he said softly, avoiding Sam’s memories himself because they would surely rile him. “The memories of _him_.”

“Not until the danger is past. I need to remember so I can try to be careful. ...Then, maybe. I’ll be just as happy simply replacing them with good memories once I’m up to it. You can’t live your life with your head in the sand, you know? Bad is part of life. Makes the good even better.” He lifted Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “We’ll be okay,” Sam said, closing his eyes and leaning back even more into Dean. “You’re my happily ever after, so I know it’ll all be okay.”

_You’re my only after, and it better be okay._ Eyes wide open, he held Sam. “Sleep. Nothing will happen. I promise you. Rest.”

_I know we’re safe. I feel it in my gut. Good night, Love. You try to get some rest, too._ With that, Sam gave a happy if tired sigh and let sleep take him.

* * *

Gregori accepted the blood offered by the prince now that he had completed the extraction of the poison from Dracori. Dracori looked tired, and slightly wild-eyed, his gaze darting about the room, his hands tightening over and over the fabric of the blanket covering him up to his chest. His lifemate mentally soothed him from where she was safely hidden away with Raven and Savannah.

“How can I ever face Dean? Or his lifemate?” he asked Mikhail, shame in his eyes. “If not for Veronica, I think I would rather meet the dawn.”

*

_You couldn’t have poisoned him a little more?_ Dean scowled, knowing they were expected downstairs and that Dracori was among those waiting for them. 

“What happened isn’t his fault, Dean,” Sam scolded. “Someone who is possessed, they usually aren’t even aware of what ‘they’ did. It’s like they’re asleep. He was a meatsuit, a puppet for the demon. And when faced with their crimes, well, most humans end up in a mental institution, at least for a little while. They blame themselves, and they shouldn’t. And neither should you.” He interlaced his fingers with Dean’s and leaned over to give him a light kiss. They had completed a second blood exchange and this evening could finish changing Sam. He tried very hard to hide the fact it still sort of scared him knowing he soon wouldn’t be human anymore.

_I know. And I know I have no right to be angrier than you are, but... there are some things you do not understand._ Someone else had started the conversion process, something that was solely Dean’s duty. His role. Someone else had dared put their hands on Sam, had... He quickly turned his mind away from thoughts that would have him exploding with rage. And someone else now had a blood bond with his lifemate, a bond that would last a lifetime. Dracori would always be able to find Sam, just as Dean could.

_I’m sure there are a million things I don’t understand. But does anything else really matter other than the fact you are my lifemate and tonight’s the night that the bond is cemented and final? It doesn’t matter how we got here. It only matters that we did. I know… I know that doesn’t ease your anger, or the possessiveness of the beast, but it’s all we’ve got, so hang on to that the best you can. In a thousand years, this’ll all be trivial. You were friends with Dracori, weren’t you? Aren’t you? He needs your support, not your beast’s rage. Mouse._ He added the last as a tease, hoping to wipe the scowl from Dean’s face, hoping to draw him out of his dark mood. 

Dean gave a snort. Dry scrubbing his face, he took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with. Like you said, we’ll be laughing about this in a few thousand years.” As he opened the bedroom door, he felt Sam’s stare. Forcing his features into a more pleasant expression, he asked, “better?”

“Acting is not your forte,” Sam said with a chuckle. “A little better, yes.” He followed Dean down the stairs, praying he could equally hold it together. In truth, he’d only seen what Dracori looked like when he’d poisoned the guy, so he didn’t think it would affect him as strongly as it might otherwise. He hoped so, anyhow. 

Before they reached the living room, Dean stopped Sam. _You know you don’t have to do this? Or if it gets hard, there is no reason to stay.”_

_I know. But this is about me. He got possessed because of me. The things the demon did in his body, that’s on me, at least some. But if it gets too hard,_ he caressed the side of Dean’s face, _I’ve got you to help me. And I’ll leave if I have to. But Dracori needs our support. And he’s the only source of information about this demon we really have._ He gave Dean a smile. “So go to your happy place and don’t be an ass to him.” He punched Dean lightly in the shoulder.

“What happy place?” Dean asked, then shook his head. “You’re perplexing me on purpose.” Taking a deep breath, he put his arm around Sam, his grip tightening possessively as they walked into the room. 

The air crackled with tension as Dean’s eyes met Dracori’s and the man stood up. Neither of them made a move.


	13. Chapter 13

Dracori finally bowed his head. “Dean, forgive me for taking away your rite of first blood exchange, for touching your lifemate inappropriately, and creating a bond that I had no permission to make.” Without pause, he continued. “Samuel, I beg forgiveness for the terrible way I have treated you. The roughness, the inexcusable compulsions that made you do things you would not have. For creating a bond between us. To both of you, in an effort to make amends I offer you my protection. Dean, I will protect your lifemate as if he were my own. Sam, I will protect Dean as if he were my brother. I abhor that which happened and will offer up anything asked of me to help mend this breach of honor and trust.”

He finally lifted his eyes, meeting both men’s gazes with faint hope that they would forgive him these travesties.

The last thing Dean wanted was Dracori as Sam’s protector. He wanted the man as far from Sam as possible. He couldn’t help the violent thoughts that surfaced at the heartfelt offer. Yet he felt Sam brush his mind. He clung to the sensation, using it to ground himself. To acknowledge that this was no different from what had happened with Ivan. It had not been Ivan who’d hurt Sam. And it hadn’t been Dracori who’d hurt and used Sam. 

As the thoughts tumbled through his mind, Dean felt everyone’s eyes on him. He glanced at Sam, then looked back to Dracori. “You were compelled. But for the demon, you would not have done this.” Dean gave a grim nod. “There is no true breach of honor or anything to forgive. And as my lifemate told me, we will get over it in a few thousand years.”

Sam elbowed Dean lightly. “He’s joking, Dracori. Honestly, I pretty much only ever saw you as Dean. So to look at you, it doesn’t dredge up bad memories and I wouldn’t hold any ill-will toward you even if it had. I’ve dealt with people who were possessed. Everything they did was beyond their control. Sometimes they remember nothing. Sometimes they remember a lot. We’re really hoping you fall into the latter and can tell us about this demon and what he wants with me.” 

_Have I told you that you’re amazing?_ Dean asked, reaching for Sam’s hand. “Yeah, the more we know, the sooner we’ll get that sonovabitch and put this behind us.”

“Please sit,” Mikhail told his guests. His gaze met Gregori’s. _It went far better than I imagined._

 _Sam is most definitely the light to Dean’s darkness. Had he demanded vengeance instead of offering forgiveness...._ Gregori gave a slight nod to Mikhail.

Dracori settled into a chair and nodded his thanks to Mikhail’s offer of drink. “The last thing I clearly remember is that I was in the village of Tersona--”

“That was on the itinerary of the trip I’d won. That’s what brought me here to Romania,” Sam said, glancing at Dean. “Sorry. Go on.”

“They’ve a small but unique botanical garden there and I was retrieving some select plants for Veronica. She’s a botanist of some note in her field. Something… pushed… its way inside me. A black smoke. I fought against it but it was intangible, and strong. My next recollection is talking to some vampire, practically a fledgling, one I didn’t recognize. And though I could see through my eyes, and hear with my ears, I heard myself ordering it to retrieve a man from a train. I had no control over my body, over my voice, nothing. I was little more than an observer. My recollections are broken.”

Hearing the things he already knew, things Sam had explained, and things he’d learned from Ivan, Dean’s anger at Dracori diminished. But rage boiled within him. Rage at the demons who dared to trespass in the bodies of Carpathians and humans. As discreetly as possible, trying to keep it from Sam, he started to count backwards from 5,000, to keep that side of his brain too busy to cause him to act on his emotions.

“The demon’s name is Azazel,” Dracori continued. “He’s an ancient demon, one of the first. He constantly ingested blood tainted with darkness.” He gave a visible shudder at the memories. “From what I can piece together, it was blood from human bodies inhabited by other demons. My body continually purified the blood. Each time my body managed to eliminate a significant amount of the taint, I seemed to grow stronger. I very nearly ejected that foul thing from my body several times, but it was always able to get more demon blood before I was strong enough.”

“What’s it want with me?” Sam asked.

Dean reached out and took Sam’s hand without ever looking at him. This was the question they both wanted answered.

Dracori looked down at the glass of blood he was holding, then finally lifted his eyes to Sam’s. “He wants you converted into a Carpathian. You have demon blood in you. You’ve been fed it in small doses through the years, mixed into your drinks, without your knowledge. Then you were forced to drink a large quantity recently--”

“Dean cleansed my blood of that,” Sam said, horrified to know that it hadn’t just been when he was a baby, but his entire life.

 _It means nothing. It hasn’t changed you. And when you are converted, you will be able to expel all taints from your system, on your own,_ Dean assured Sam, brushing his mind repeatedly and trying to take away the undeserved shame he found brewing in there.

“From what I could tell, Azazel wants a Carpathian body and the abilities that go along with it. But because of our purification abilities, no demon can possess a Carpathian for very long. He managed to with me only because of the demon blood he ingested, and because he is so old and powerful. But a human who has been converted, who is already attuned to the demon before becoming Carpathian? Azazel believes it is part of you and cannot be eradicated, won’t be eradicated once you are Carpathian. He believes you will become the perfect vessel because your body won’t reject the demon. He had planned to convert you himself, then to kill me, which would all but drive you mad with grief. He would take your body over while you were still young and unfamiliar with your new Carpathian abilities.”

Dracori faltered, and all of the Carpathians knew why. It wasn’t only Dracori who would be lost to them if that happened. Veronica and Dean would be destroyed too. With their lifemates gone, neither would stay in this world. “With the loss of the one to whom you were bonded -- me -- you might not even care enough to fight the demon.”

“And Sam would be forever stuck...” A muscle throbbed in Dean’s jaw. 

“It won’t come to pass. Each of us will see to it,” Mikhail promised.

“After Sam is converted, we’ll have to lure Azazel. Set a trap, much like we do for vampires.” Dean’s eyes were as hard as flint.

 _You propose to use your lifemate as bait?_ Mikhail asked.

A moment passed. Dean allowed Sam to hear Mikhail’s question, then he glanced at Sam. “If we must.” It went against his nature, but from day one, Sam had made it clear he was a hunter, a warrior. He’d proven himself already, tricking the demon into drinking poisoned blood and saving Dracori from its grip. “Only if we must.”

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand, pleased Dean had faith in him. “I told Dean before, I refuse to live the rest of my days wondering when the demon will take another run at me. A controlled situation, with us prepared for the attack, makes a helluva lot more sense than letting the demon set the time and place and possibly catch us unawares. I’ve got no problem playing bait, not when I’ve got this sort of back-up. It’s obvious this Azazel has been planning this for years. He’s not going to cry into his beer and just go home because he lost today. It also proves he’s a scheming smart bastard. Feeding me blood throughout my life, probably making certain I had enough cash when I passed by that raffle booth to rationalize wasting a few dollars for a good cause. Once I bought the ticket, he had me, and I never even knew it. He just didn’t count on me already having a lifemate. If Dean and I had never met, I’d be changed and I’d be his by now.” Sam paused and stared at Dean for a moment, love in his eyes. “I’ll make sure you guys know everything there is to trapping and getting rid of demons, and you can fill me in on how to trap vampires.” 

Mikhail smiled. “I just relayed our conversation to Raven and she says you’ve gone up in her esteem,” he told Dean. “She also said that we’d all better be prepared for changes. It sounded ominous.” 

Dean shook his head. “You just have to learn how to _handle_ your lifemates.”

“Yes, you _handle_ yours so adeptly,” Gregori said, amusement plain in his eyes. He had, after all, been inside Sam’s head to rid him of the poison and had picked up recent memories of interactions between the two. “I’d say, of all of us, _you_ have the bigger handful because when he digs his heels in...” Gregori shook his head, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Sam had been ready to give Dean a slug to the arm when Gregori more-or-less came to his defense. “All I hafta do is bat my eyes at him and wiggle my butt and he’s putty in my hands,” Sam said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And then there’s his nickname.” He grinned at Dean pressing his lips together as if to say ‘mouse,’ then gave Dean a wink. “Hunk.” _My Hunkalicious mouse,_ he added, only to Dean. 

Dean had tensed, waiting for an onslaught of jokes, but they never came. His lifemate was discreet and had kept the nickname to himself after all. He chuckled. “That’s the only one of my nicknames that he can say in polite company.”

Mikhail rolled his eyes. “I bet you gave him a list to choose from. Don’t forget, I knew you from when you kept a string--a ruler,” he translated for modern times, “next to your bed.”

“Don’t listen to them, they have faulty memories,” Dean protested, seeing Gregori nod in agreement. 

“About as faulty as yours, I’m guessing,” Sam said, chuckling. “But he hasn’t bragged on himself. So what are some of these other nicknames I should definitely know?” Sam said. “Was he a real Casanova in his youth? Or was he still a serious stick in the mud, like he is now?”

“One word,” Dean pointed at his friends. “Just one, and Raven and Savannah will hear my stories about you. All of them.” 

Dracori cleared his throat. “They’re all far older than me, but from what I’ve heard... wild,” he said pointing at Dean, “serious,” he pointed at Gregori, and “underhanded,” he said, pointing lastly at Mikhail. 

That had the three warriors arguing and talking over each other, until Dean turned to Sam. “Shall we,” he nodded toward the door. “So I can prove I’m no stick in the mud.”

Mikhail shook his head. “Ah, Sam. If you want to talk to someone who’s gone through conversion, Raven said you can give her a call.”

 _I sense you are apprehensive. If it would help, you should call her,_ Dean said, his eyes locking with Sam’s.

 _Yeah, I’m scared outta my mind,_ Sam answered. I mean, I’m not going to be human anymore and even after all of this, that old vampire lore is buried in my subconscious, and I know what vamps did to my dad, and I’m going to change into something that could become a vamp someday. But I love you. I need you. So, I’m gonna suck it up, push all my fears down deep, and use sheer Winchester stubbornness to get through this. That and love and reassurances from you. I know it’ll be okay in the end. I have faith.

Sam turned to Mikhail. “Thank you, Mikhail. And thank Raven for me, but this has to be all on me. I don’t want anyone to try to tell me it’s this or that, and then the change happens and I find it’s not true, or it’s different for me.” Sam’s eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled, showing his dimples. “All I can do is grab on with both hands and see where I end up.” He glanced at Dean. _Let’s go. Let’s do this. Hunk._

Dean nodded at the others, even hanging on to his smile when he met Dracori’s eyes. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening.” One arm around Sam’s waist, he swept him out of the room, clamping his hand firmly on his ass as soon as they were out of sight. _What was that you said about wiggling your ass?_

Sam laughed and gave a little wiggle and batted his eyes at Dean. “Putty in my hands, wild man. Putty in my hands.”

* * * 

When they reached their room, it was pitch dark for a moment. Dean didn’t flip the light switch. Instead, the room was flooded with the golden light from hundreds of flickering candles and a few torches that gave more intense light. 

Taking Sam’s hand, Dean kissed it. He could hear Sam’s heart race and he knew it wasn’t just excitement. “Shall I get you some wine?” he asked, searching Sam’s eyes.

Sam felt a flush run through him. Dean could be so romantic. All the candles, the offer of wine. He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, I don’t want any wine. I mean,” he glanced down at the multitude of shadows flickering across the floor, “it seems kinda pointless. Just reminds me of the things I’m kinda… scared… about.” He tugged Dean over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, pulling Dean down beside him. He leaned in, giving Dean a light kiss. “I want a clear head, I want this to be right and perfect. And ‘human’ has to be put behind me.” Running the fingers of his right hand through Dean's silky soft hair, he gave a quiet sigh. Dean would be his forever lover. The world would change around them, but they wouldn’t change. “Everyone’s allowed to get a little nervous on their wedding night, right?”

He leaned in towards Dean. _Hold me. Tell me of all the things we’ll do and see and be to each other. Show me the world, the life you know is ahead for us. Then kiss me senseless._

 _I will._ Although Dean didn’t physically move, he focused on Sam’s lips and then both of them felt the sensation of his mouth sliding over Sam’s, his tongue tangling with his lifemate’s, his hands running up and down Sam’s body, holding him close. _We’ll have this forever. And this._ He moved out of the shadows of Sam’s mind, merging with him completely. There was no loneliness. There was no want. They were complete together. _If there are battles ahead, we fight them together. Places to explore, you will always have company. Things to see, you will see them in more ways than you can imagine._

Once before, Dean had given Sam an inkling of the sights and colors and sounds he would perceive, that the human senses could not. He showed him again, this time, letting Sam see how he saw him. How beautiful and perfect he looked to Dean. Not just on the surface, but down to his very cells. How he smelled, how he felt, and how he radiated the air around him. 

Running his knuckles down the side of Sam’s face, Dean leaned in and closed his mouth over Sam’s. _Putty in your hands, but it’s our secret._ And then he was kissing Sam, madly, hungrily, with all the passion of a man who had waited century upon century for this moment, for his lifemate.

Sam felt lost, like he was drowning, yet completely safe, as Dean shared with him things his mind could barely grasp and comprehend. The deep loneliness he had always felt replaced with waves of love and promises that he would never feel that solitude again. Dean’s kiss was a firebrand on his soul, making him feel alive in ways he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. The way Dean saw him, as so perfect, he wanted to deny, to refute with every fiber of his being, but how could he when he felt the same about Dean? So perfect, more perfect that anyone should ever be. As if Dean had been made especially for him, just for him and him alone.

He kissed Dean back, silently promising that Dean would never again be alone, echoing his thoughts and feelings with every touch he gave his lifemate. His hands slid along Dean’s back, feeling the ripple of muscles with every movement his lover made. Sam gasped in a breath when he could, not caring if at times his lungs burned for oxygen because his body was burning more for Dean. 

Dean pushed Sam down onto the bed, slid his hand under him, and lifting him, moved him to the center of the bed. He barely broke the kiss, simply allowing Sam to take a breath, then kissing him again as if he could never get enough. _The exchange won’t hurt, not with me,_ he assured Sam, but he had to make sure Sam understood the rest. _But the conversion... you understand...?_

 _I know the exchange won’t hurt with you. What happened with the demon, it means nothing. The conversion… is painful?_ He hadn’t actually blatantly asked Dean. He trusted him. He didn’t imagine it would be as simple as an exchange of blood and be over. For Dean, he would accept any pain, for the thought of being without Dean was intolerable.

 _It’s different for everyone. Yes. It’s painful. Your human body will shut down._ There was more than a hint of regret in Dean’s tone. _I’ll be with you the whole time. I can promise you that. And I’ll help you._ He lifted his head and looked down into Sam’s lust blown pupils. “It’s the first of the battles we’ll face together,” he said, hating the idea that Sam would be the one to bear the brunt of it. 

_You mean I’ll die,_ Sam whispered in his mind. That’s what always happened in the vampire books. Sometimes the people stayed as themselves, sometimes they became--something else. But he knew Dean would not go on if he wouldn’t still be Sam. So he would be. He had to be. And if he wasn’t, then he died in his lover’s arms. If one had to die, what death could be better?

After a brief hesitation, Dean whispered. “Yes.” 

He let that sink in for a moment, then he slipped his knee between Sam’s thighs. “But then you’ll wake, and you’ll be more alive than ever. You’ll be demanding my blood. And sex... plenty of it,” he teased, his lips quirking into a smile. “When we’re home, Maria will have to walk around with her eyes closed so she won’t notice...”

“Ngh...” Sam groaned at the pressure against his already hard cock. _As if I can ever get enough sex from you. Just you remember, I’ll have the same abilities as you, so you embarrass me in front of her and I’ll make your clothes disappear the next time you’re talking with her or something._ Sam tugged Dean back down for more kisses. He could never seem to get enough of the taste of this man, _his_ man.

 _Just you remember, I don’t care what she thinks about my state of undress, and I can just blame you for it._ Laughing against Sam’s lips, he added, _You are my laughter. Before you, I wouldn’t know what mine sounded like._ Although he managed to joke, and roll them over a few times, enjoying how Sam felt both under him and over him, he sensed the beast’s impatience. 

_Fine. I’ll dress you in a Halloween pink bunny outfit instead,_ Sam teased back. He loved the soft rumble of Dean’s laughter and the way it made his shoulders shake. The look in his eyes, of love and life, were nearly indescribable. He could also sense the beast. _Tell your beast he’ll have his own beast to play with soon enough,_ Sam teased him and nipped lightly at Dean’s jaw and then neck. He tugged at Dean’s shirt. “Such a tease,” he breathed against Dean’s throat. 

Dean practically growled at the scrape of Sam’s teeth across his flesh. “You call me tease?” Incredulous, he kissed his way down from Sam’s lips, along his clothed chest, to cover his jeans clad cock with his mouth. Closing his lips firmly over his shaft, he pulsed his mouth, drawing out the sensations Sam was feeling so he could share in them. He then filtered them right back to Sam, so it was a feedback loop, growing stronger and more intense with each round.

The feelings Dean evoked in him, coupled with the way the feeling multiplied in strength, had Sam writhing under Dean, fingers of one hand digging into the sheets while his other hand’s fingers wrapped around strands of Dean’s hair. His groans grew in volume until he barely recognized the noises coming from his own throat. _I take it back! I take it back! Uncle! Uncle!_ Sam cried mentally, because he certainly couldn’t verbally string those words together.

Triumphant and smiling, Dean rose to his knees and started to undress Sam, the old fashioned way. As he unbuttoned his silk shirt and revealed more of his chiseled chest, the beast snarled and tried to wrest control, wanting to shred the material off Sam’s body. Wanting to stake its claim. Wanting it more than ever, now that someone else had tried. 

Dean’s expression changed. It was harsher, but he maintained a pained smile and dipped his head down, running the tip of his tongue around Sam’s nipple.

Sam lay there, panting, still groaning, now from the loss of the pressure and pulsing against his cock. He could see the struggle in Dean, feel it as the beast fought with the man. He burrowed into Dean’s mind, finding the beast and embracing it, confirming he was Dean’s and the beast did not have to fear anyone would take him from Dean. He begged it to calm itself, to let Dean make love to him without having to fight for control. 

When he felt Dean’s tongue wrap around his nipple, then latch on and suck, Sam’s focus wavered and he was back in his own mind, arching under Dean’s expert attention. 

When the beast backed off for a moment, Dean was able to make love to Sam with a clear mind, uncomplicated by the intense need to claim and dominate. It would be back, he knew it. But he took advantage of the moment, slowly stripping the rest of Sam’s clothes off, and loving every inch of him.

With every kiss, every touch, Dean’s need wound tighter. His clothes burned against his skin, chafing him. With a thought, he got rid of them, and then they were skin to skin. 

He kissed and licked and left hot trails along Sam’s chest and abs, sometimes sucking his skin into his mouth. Sometimes teasing him by bringing his mouth almost over the places that Sam ached most, blowing a hot breath over those areas, and moving on. 

Thoughts of taking Sam, and of tasting his life essence started to get persistent, and Dean was back to struggling against them. And struggle he did, keeping an iron control over the beast as he stroked Sam’s thigh and kissed the other, still teasing him.

It was like a dream, the best damned dream ever, the way Dean caressed him, loved him, made him feel precious and priceless. There was also a slowly stoked fire burning inside of him. He wanted to return the touches and kisses, but he knew the beast was barely contained and if he displayed any aggression, the beast would be back. So he let Dean keep full control, grateful when Dean finally got rid of his own clothes so he could touch skin. He tugged Dean up for sweet kisses, his own hands slipping low to Dean’s groin, brushing over his hard cock or balls when he could reach them. Otherwise he kneaded Dean’s muscles or arched and moved beneath him, growing needier and needier with each passing minute of delicious torture. Sweat dotted his forehead and gave a slight sheen to his body; his breath was coming in ragged breaths. “Dean, unghhh, need you… soon,” he panted. 

“Me, too,” Dean muttered thickly, working his way back up Sam’s body, and kissing him. Each time he moved his hips, his rock hard cock slid against Sam, sending fire through his system. _Want to be in you. Be one with you,_ he said, shifting, lifting slightly and aligning his cock. A single thought had Sam lubricated and ready for him. 

_Yes!_ Sam cried out. This was so different from the way he’d been taken by Azazel, it was everything he had expected it to be. As he wove his tongue with Dean’s, he wove his thoughts, his memories, letting every protection he’d ever built up fall away until his mind was as naked to Dean as his body. Every dark secret, every shame, every joy was released to be seen or felt with nothing held back. His life spilled forth in an impossible series of images and feelings, smells and emotions, culminating in this moment where all his world was made up of Dean and only Dean.

Curled over Sam between his parted and raised knees , Dean pushed his way inside Sam’s body, the same way he pushed through Sam’s thoughts and feelings. Carefully. Lovelingly. Possessively. Completely. 

Once his hips were slotted against the backs of Sam’s thighs, he gave a low groan. He was buried as deeply inside his life mate as he could be, and Sam felt so right, so perfect around him, clinging to him, sheathing him. 

He held his hips completely still, allowing Sam to adjust to his presence. But he made love to him in a hundred other ways. With his thoughts, and kisses, and tender touches. And with the ancient Carpathian words that started to tumble from him like a waterfall that could not be held back a second longer.. _I claim you as my life mate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my body, and my soul. I take into my keeping the same that is yours._

 _I claim you,_ Sam responded, speaking slower, his ancient Carpathian heavily accented and a bit stilted, _as my life mate. I am yours, forever. You are mine, forever. I give everything I am to you and will protect all that you are._ Sam paused, knowing there was more to the ritual words, letting Dean continue to speak them as they gently touched and caressed one another, the ancient bonds cocooning them, tying them to each other in a way unfathomable to those without lifemates. 

The beast roared to life. Dean’s control slipped and he found himself thrusting his hips harder than he’d intended, punctuating each of his own vows. _Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my life mate. Bound to me for all eternity and always in my care._ His head reared up. He stared into Sam’s eyes, and seeing submission, lowered his mouth over Sam’s throat. His aching teeth pierced right through Sam’s delicate skin, but he made sure Sam felt no more than a migratory burn.

As Sam’s life blood pumped into his mouth, Dean knew he wouldn’t have to stop early this time. That he didn’t have to conserve. And with each swallow of Sam’s sweet and spicy essence, he had no idea how he had managed to stop himself from binding him and converting him before. This was right. This was their one and only destiny. 

Sliding one hand under Sam’s ass, he started lifting him up each time he slammed his cock inside Sam, moving harder and faster, sharing his feelings, his sensations, his ravenous needs with Sam. _You are mine. I am yours_ he chanted, claiming Sam completely and for eternity.

 _We are one,_ Sam answered, responding to Dean in a way he never had before, feeling things he never had before. He took Dean’s strokes, his passion, and reflected them back, matching Dean’s rhythm and needs in any and every way he could. He felt his lifeblood draining away and didn’t care. Dean was all that mattered, all that would ever matter.

 _We are one,_ Dean reiterated. He could hear Sam’s heart slow. Felt it stutter. _Come with me, come now_ , he commanded, needing Sam to finish the ride before he was too weak.

Sam heard Dean’s words, even as his chest hurt and his heart thumped irregularly. He dredged up the last of his energy, clenching his muscles, bringing Dean to completion. That first reflected feeling, that first sense of warmth, was all it took. He arched and shouted Dean’s name, feeling his own balls tighten and his cum fountain between them in thick ropes. It was perfect, as he knew it would be, as he felt the warmth inside him spread, even as he felt a coldness creep into his limbs. A gentle smile curved his lips as he slowly caressed Dean’s head. _It was everything I thought it would be,_ he whispered, wincing as he felt his heart stutter again in his chest. _Love you. Always. Forever._

 _And the day after that, my love,_ Dean whispered back, gathering Sam close, drinking more slowly until it was time to close his wound. When he looked down at Sam, his lifemate was paler than he had ever seen him. His heart clenched. “Sammy,” he whispered, brushing the strands of hair sticking to Sam’s forehead back. “I’m right here. Here with you.” He didn’t bother to disentangle their bodies. He wanted Sam to feel him still. If he was surrounded by Dean, maybe it would chase away some of the fear. Everyone feared death, even those who welcomed it. _Tomorrow, we’ll race through the forest faster than that car that you lust over._

Sam stared into Dean’s eyes, his own beginning to glaze over as his vision grew fuzzy. He searched for Dean’s hand and loosely gripped it, feeling his head loll back and fighting to focus on Dean. “Almost over,” he rasped, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye and slipping down the side of his face. Death was near. He could taste it, feel it, as the coldness began to snake slowly through him. Sounds began to fade away and his vision began to darken. “Love...” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open and draw another breath.

“No. No, Sam, it’s just _beginning_.” Using his nail to cut a deep slash into his wrist, Dean brought his wrist over Sam’s mouth. “Drink from me. Take me inside you,” he insisted, when Sam didn’t open his mouth. He didn’t want to compel Sam, but he would. _You have to drink now._

____

____

__Sam’s mind was hazy but he heard Dean’s demand. Drink what? He wasn’t sure. He finally opened his mouth, assuming Dean would help him sit up and drink whatever it was, even though he barely saw the point. Death was so close, if he just let his eyes shut, he was certain everything would fade away._ _

__Instead, liquid filled his mouth and he nearly choked on it, coughing weakly, some of the liquid running down his chin. He struggled to swallow the sweet nectar. He couldn’t describe the flavor, though he knew he’d tasted it before. Thirst began to wrack him and he swallowed faster, feeling like he was sucking on something and to get at the liquid inside, biting down to make certain it wasn’t taken away as he gulped it as quickly as he could, his mind unable to focus on anything else._ _

Dean bit his lip, his blood rushing faster as his lifemate accepted his essence. “Good. That’s good Sam, drink... drink all you want,” he said, knowing Sam would quickly get drowsier. He’d taken enough, and that was what mattered. _I’m right here... here with you. You’re doing great, Fierce One,_ he gave a grim smile as he felt Sam’s life ebb away. 

__

__

__“I love you,” he whispered finally to Sam’s now still and lifeless body. Closing the wound on his own wrist, Dean pulled out of Sam and got off the bed. With a single thought, he cleaned both of them of any trace of blood, sweat or come, and dressed them._ _

__Then Dean got back on the bed, and held Sam. Waiting. Waiting yet another eternity for him to come back to him._ _

__*_ _

__Sam slowly opened his eyes. Things looked different, but he couldn’t put his finger on how. Candles were burning everywhere around them, golden light reflected in a hundred different ways. Nausea washed over him and his gut burned as if he’d swallowed a dozen of those candles and they were still aflame inside him. His stomach writhed and twisted and he screamed silently as the fire burned through his body and veins like acid._ _

__Dean slowly released the tight hold he had on Sam, and sat up next to him. His nostrils flared as he felt Sam’s pain. He put his hand very lightly over Sam’s chest. “Welcome back, baby. I was... so alone,” he said. A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “Hang on... just a little longer.” In truth, he didn’t know how long Sam’s suffering would last._ _

__“Glad I didn’t ask Raven how painful--” Sam whispered. His body began to seize and cries of pain escaped him as he felt his bones burned to ash inside him, regrowing instantly. His insides, his heart, his lungs, his stomach, everything twisted and reshaped itself, wreaking such agony and pain that Sam couldn’t believe anyone could live through it._ _

__The pain faded, but Sam could feel another wave beginning to build almost immediately. He clutched Dean, fighting his fear, fighting to keep himself from asking Dean to simply kill him. He was going to throw up. He knew he was. He visualized throwing up those dozens of lighted candles inside him, the thought seeming perfectly rational to him at the moment._ _

__He pulled away from Dean, crawling to the edge of the bed and retching black liquid laced with red and little shards of other things that his mind insisted was surely candle wax. It went on and on, a cycle, until he collapsed onto the bed._ _

__“Tell me it’s over,” Sam begged, fighting back his sobs. He would not break down like a child, no matter how intense the pain and misery._ _

__All Dean could do was brush Sam’s mind, showing him he was there with him. Touch him. Lightly, to be sure he wasn’t adding to the pain. He tried, but couldn’t take the pain from Sam. He was useless, impotent to do the one job that mattered most to him, to protect his lifemate. “Almost... almost over.” He lied, because he couldn’t see how telling Sam that he didn’t know how long this would last would help. “Do you want me to hold you?”_ _

__Sam gave a slight nod. As soon as Dean’s arms closed around him, he couldn’t hold back the tears, waiting for the next wave of pain. The respite was short-lived. Another twist in his gut had him pushing away from Dean, leaning over the bed, and throwing up. As soon the bout was over, he moved back into Dean’s arms, his body jerking and seizing as his insides reformed._ _

Thrice more he vomited, the last time expelling barely anything at all from his body. Pain still ricocheted inside him, spiderwebs of fire and flame. _I think I’m done throwing up at least._ Sam told Dean miserably, twitching and jerking and wanting the pain to stop. Just… stop. 

__“It’s over. The pain will go, and you’ll sleep,” Dean promised. He eased off the bed and picked Sam up, easily carrying him across the room. They hadn’t talked about this. He hoped Sam was so far gone that he wouldn’t realize what was happening until it was over._ _

__Within a matter of minutes, he was down the stairs and in the basement. Instead of a floor, there was just rich, dark, Carpathian soil. It parted into a hole, and he jumped inside, jostling Sam as little as possible._ _

Dropping down on his knees, he placed Sam down on the earth. Arranged his body, then laid next to him, his body curved around Sam’s. _Sleep_ he commanded, assuring that Sam, who had not yet protested, would fall into a deep sleep and would not see the warm soil close up over them. _Heal, my love. Heal._ Pressed against his lifemate, Dean fell into the deepest and sweetest of all sleeps. 

__* * *_ _

__Sam felt the prickle of consciousness trying to surface, but something else was trying to keep him asleep. He fought, and won, against the compulsion to stay asleep. It felt as if he’d slept for days. Every part of his body felt strong, not a single ache anywhere, and honestly, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d awoken without a little something aching somewhere. If nothing else, just from being stuck sleeping in a bed that was invariably too short for him._ _

__He tried to stretch his arms, tried to open his eyes, and began to suck in a deep breath. He couldn’t move his arms! He couldn’t see any light! He tasted dirt when he opened his mouth to breathe. Panic overwhelmed him and he fought to free himself. He’d been buried alive! How had he been buried alive? Where the hell was he?_ _

__A turbulent geyser of rich Carpathian soil exploded upward, slamming into the ceiling and raining back down. Sam found himself literally flying out of the ground with it, his head slamming into one of the overhead support beams, and then falling back to the ground. The string of curses leaving him would probably have shocked even his father._ _


	14. Chapter 14

“The hell!” Rudely pulled out of sleep, Dean hurtled out of the ground after Sam, ready to let go of his own string of oaths, but the sight of Sam on his ass, looking as if he’d had a rude awakening of his own had Dean’s shoulders shaking. He tried to hide his laughter, to school his features into an expression of empathy as he slowly approached Sam.

Sam was rubbing his head where he’d thwacked it hard. Weird it wasn’t wet and sticky with blood. Pieces of what happened began to slowly congeal in his mind, but he still felt like he was fighting off sleep. He looked up at Dean, both of their naked bodies smeared with dirt. 

Sam’s gaze dropped to the hole in the ground, then snapped up to meet Dean’s. “Okay, so not thrilled--” he stopped and spit some dirt out of his mouth. “Not thrilled with the whole buried alive thing, and how come I just want to crawl back into that hole and sleep while the rest of me is ready to run a marathon?”

Dean crossed his arms. “Because you’re fighting compulsion. Can you never take an order?” If he weren’t amused, he might have been frustrated by Sam’s apparent ability to act against his orders. Softly, he whispered, “Wake.”

The last vestiges of wanting to sleep disappeared and Sam heaved a sigh. “Better. Much better. I spent my whole life bucking my father’s orders. What makes you think you can beat out my own dad?” he said with an offhanded shrug, but chuckled softly. He finally held a hand out for Dean to help him up. “Man, I’m starving. _Who’s_ for dinner?”

Dean pulled Sam into his arms and was still laughing as he cleaned them up with a thought and dressed them in jeans and silk shirts. “I am.” Kissing Sam lightly, he stepped back and looked him up and down, his blood warming. “Beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You always say that, you flatterer. And for once, food before sex? Please? I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week. Or a year. What time is it? Hell, what _day_ is it? We’re still at Mikhail’s, right?” As always, the questions and comments fairly flew from Sam, not really giving Dean a chance to answer until he looked at Dean expectantly.

Taking Sam’s hand, Dean gave a nod. _I’ll feed you._ His voice had dropped an octave. Sam wouldn’t understand just yet, but there was no reason to choose food over sex. The experience would be equivalent.

As they walked out of the basement room and started to go up the stairs, he warned Sam. “Be careful. You’ll need to get used to your strength or you’ll be breaking things. It won’t take long,” he promised, unable to take his eyes off Sam. “You’re one of us now. How does it feel?”

Sam gave a partial shrug. “I feel freaking awesome. I never knew the places I ached until they stopped aching, y’know? No, you probably don’t. Like I broke my wrist when I got jumped by a zombie. It’s always sort of ached but that ache isn’t there anymore. Colors seem dazzling.” He paused a moment and glanced around. “Holy crap, it’s completely dark in here, isn’t it? I can see like it’s the middle of the day.” He took a deep sniff or the air. “Whew. I think I’d move the stables a little further away, too.” 

Dean gave a snort, a grin firmly in place on his face.

When they reached the ground floor, Sam caught sight of his reflection in a decorative mirror. Stepping back in front of it, he froze, staring at himself. He looked the same, but yet… not. His hair no longer seemed unruly. It seemed silken and shiny. His hazel eyes churned with colors and his features… his cheek bones, jaw, temple… everything was just a little more defined… refined. “Oh. Wow...” Sam said, staring at himself. “Who knew dirt baths were so good for the… everything.” He couldn’t help but suddenly wonder if his dick had equally improved somehow.

Eavesdropping on Sam’s thoughts, Dean drily said, “Looks like I’m not the only one who kept a ruler by the bed.” 

He allowed Sam another moment to stare at himself, then practically dragged him down the hall. “I hear the others stirring. Let’s spend a little time together first, before we’re surrounded.”

They walked out into the castle gardens. A Carpathian warrior nodded at them and walked in the opposite direction. 

The scent of roses tinged the air. It was a warm evening with a slight breeze. A perfect night.

They reached a sitting area, with cushioned chairs and a table. “You’re sure about food first?” Dean teased, letting Sam see and feel images of himself running his hands all over Sam’s body. 

Giving a soft groan, Sam gave him a pitiful look. “You’re evil.” Reaching out, he gripped Dean’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss. A new kind of fire burned inside him coupled with a fierce possessiveness. He suddenly understood Dean’s ferocious protectiveness and jealousy. He looked inside himself for that beast that Dean had, and though he found... something... his was different. Rather than a dark beast ever kept on a leash, Sam felt like he had some sort of bright pulsing star inside him, burning intensely, and only burning for Dean.

_Not evil. In love,_ Dean corrected, moving his mouth over Sam’s, kissing him hungrily as if they hadn’t slept together all day, as if they’d been separated for years and he’d missed him. _This hunger for each other. It will never go away,_ he said, running his fingers through the silky strands of Sam’s hair.

When he broke the kiss, his body burned for Sam. His mouth still burned from the kiss. He pushed Sam lightly, to sit on the outdoor sofa. “I’ll feed you the formal way this time. Are you ready to eat me?” 

Sam was staring at Dean with love and lust until his “eat me” comment cut through his thoughts and he burst into laughter. Seeing Dean’s puzzlement, he mentally shared the meaning of the slang term with Dean, grinning. “We are so going to have to get you caught up on your slang. And you definitely need to see Little Shop of Horrors so I can say ‘feed me’ and you’ll get the joke. Okay, so what,” he gave Dean a smirk, “is the formal way? With our clothes on instead of being naked?”

“I could get us naked and it would still be formal, so long as you drink from my wrist. Of course Mikhail will get an eyeful.” He didn’t bother turning around toward the castle; he sensed eyes on them. 

“Don’t you dare!” Sam protested, but saw the mischief in Dean’s eyes and gave him a mild glare.

Dean pulled his sleeve up and ran his sharp nail across his wrist, leaving a gash that started to well and drip with blood. “I offer freely my blood, as is your right,” he said, offering it to Sam, his eyes locking with his lifemate’s as he wondered whether he would have to compel Sam to feed this first time.

Sam licked his lips and looked at the blood that glittered like rubies. After a moment’s hesitation he leaned in and, taking a deep breath, ran his tongue over the stream of blood, closing his eyes. He focused on the taste, forcing himself to put out of his head what he was drinking. The memory of the gallons of demon blood being forced down his throat came rushing back at him, but this was so… different. Sam felt something inside him shift and his hunger reared its head. Without meaning to, his fangs elongated and pierced Dean’s flesh as he began to suck on the wound. He gave a soft moan of approval as the sweet liquid filled his mouth. 

Dean watched through heavy lidded eyes, wincing slightly at the unexpected bite. As Sam’s hesitant swallows changed to long gulps punctuated by soft moans, Dean’s nostrils flared. Each time Sam licked or sucked, Dean felt the sensation in a hundred points on his body. His skin tightened. His jeans grew uncomfortable. His heart pounded harder and faster as he was swept away by desire. Unable to keep his thoughts to himself, he pulled Sam into them. 

And then they were on a moonlit beach. Dean half laying down, bracing himself on his elbows. Sam laying between his legs, his perfect scarlet lips wrapped tightly around Dean’s cock. A soft moan escaped Dean. He put his hand on the back of Sam’s head, pushing it down slightly, even though it was already bent as he drank from Dean..

Sam was lost in the taste of the blood, the way it sent fire racing through him. It was like a mirror image of when he’d gone through the conversion, but instead of pain it was pleasure surging through him. Then he was on the beach with Dean, giving Dean a delicious blow job, when he suddenly realized he had fangs and his fangs were buried in Dean’s flesh. He pulled away abruptly trying to pull his fangs out without causing Dean any pain, as panic filled him. He blinked and realized they were still in the garden at Mikhail’s home and he’d only been drinking from Dean’s wrist. He stared at Dean wide-eyed. “You-you don’t get any blow jobs until, not until I learn to control my, uh, my fangs.”

“Wha--” Glowering at Sam for having broken him out of the fantasy, it took Dean a few seconds to understand what Sam was getting at. He gave a low chuckle. Then a louder one. “It grows back.” 

“It _grows back?_ ” Sam asked incredulously, his eyes wide. “How many times have you lost your dick? How have you...?” Sam felt liquid on the hand that still gripped Dean’s arm and looked down. Hastily he leaned down and licked away the blood that was streaming from the wound, then licked over the wound a few times, the way he’d felt Dean do when Dean bit him. He was pleased to see the wound close up, stemming the flow of blood. Then he looked back at Dean, expecting an answer. 

“Thanks. I was about to tell you to close the wound.” Choking on his laughter, Dean refused to answer Sam’s questions, instead taking his hand and walking him deeper into the gardens. “If you listen hard enough, you will hear things from miles away. You’ll also learn how to filter out sounds you don’t want to hear, or it’ll get annoying real fast.” Squeezing Sam’s hand, he looked over at him. Sam really was Carpathian now. They really would be together forever. His face split into a wide grin and he looked away, shaking his head. How had he gotten this lucky? There were so many others who were more deserving. 

Sam tried to listen, but everything was pretty much a cacophony of noises. Insects. Birds. The wind. Many sounds he couldn’t even begin to put a name to, so he didn’t try. He was used to ignoring sounds since he’d never been a great big fan of his father’s favorite music. He noticed Dean’s smile before his lifemate looked away, and he heard his thoughts. 

_You’re one of the ancients, you’ve waited longer than most. Why would you think you were undeserving of a lifemate? And c’mon, you got stuck with a guy. You can’t even have kids._ Sam thought back to his first protests to Dean about him refusing to be turned into a baby-momma or whatever the unknown telepathic perv had in mind for him. 

_Stuck... yeah, get over here._ He tugged hard on Sam’s hand. _I want to get stuck some more._ Covering Sam’s mouth with his, he kissed him senseless as he backed Sam up against a tree.

Sam practically swooned under Dean’s attention.

“Please don’t damage the trees. Raven would have my head,” Prince Mikhail said.

Sam abruptly broke away from the kiss, his gaze darting everywhere, hunting for the prince. “No, we won’t be damaging--” Sam realized he didn’t see, smell, or feel the prince’s presence. His gaze went to Dean, who looked annoyed. “I just heard, uhm, I thought I heard the prince.” He chewed on his lower lip. “Where is he? I don’t--I don’t see him.”

“Mikhail!” Dean ground out. “Cut it out, damn you.” Leaning in, he put his hand on one side of Sam’s face. “Forget about him. Kiss me,” he demanded.

“Can he see us?” Sam practically squeaked like the mouse he so often accused Dean of being, his cheeks beginning to color.

“I doubt it. Kiss me, Sam.” He brushed his mouth over Sam’s, pressing against him. “Sammy.” Noticing Sam’s mind was miles away, he started to get irritated. “Mikhail...”

Sucking in a breath and refusing to let a Carpathian voyeur--were all Carpathians voyeurs, Sam wondered with mild irritation--stop him from kissing Dean. Wrapping his arms around Dean, he pulled Dean close and kissed him back, making it as dirty of a kiss as he could.

A low growl of approval broke from Dean. As his tongue tangled with Sam’s, he ran his hands over his body. Unable to get enough, he swept his hand under Sam’s shirt, loving the way Sam’s muscles rippled under his palm. About to tug Sam’s shirt off, he stopped for a moment. Another look of irritation crossed his features, but he quickly shook it off and kissed Sam again, his hunger taking over. _Want you._ His fingers curled around the back of Sam’s neck, positioning him as he deepened his kisses. He’d just gotten rid of Sam’s shirt when he mentally shouted, _shut up!_

Sam focused, imagining Dean’s shirt was gone, and they were suddenly pressed skin to skin. _They can watch all they want,_ he told Dean, then to no one in particular he mentally called out. _Planning on having hot dirty sex, here. Tickets are a thousand U.S. dollars apiece. Even if all you’re doing in listening in!_ He returned his focus to Dean. _Screw them. Or better yet, why don’t you screw me?_ Sam said to him, his voice seductive and velvety as he concentrated on making Dean’s pants disappear. 

* * *

“Dean! You said you’d help me practice flying again!” Sam complained, trying to wrest himself free of Dean’s arms. Dean still had to compel him to go to sleep in order for Sam to sleep in the ground, but he promised he’d try to do it on his own once he got a little further along in controlling his newfound powers. He’d managed to learn the bare basics of many things pretty quickly, able to be in Dean’s mind as Dean did things, which he then emulated. Flying was actually pretty easy. Flying gracefully without zigzagging everywhere like a rabid wasp was another matter. He hadn’t gotten up to shapeshifting yet, but he was getting a pretty good handle on controlling the weather. He was pretty damned pleased with the progress he’d made in only two weeks, but he was also ready as hell to return to their home instead of staying at the castle, waiting for Azazel to try something. Playing bait was beginning to look like the best option for drawing the demon out.

“There’s flying, and then there’s flyin’.” Dean smirked, keeping Sam firmly on his lap and nuzzling his neck. They’d come up to one of the towers hours ago to practice. “Know what I mean?” he asked, goosing Sam and chuckling. 

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean and when I get better at flying, I’ve got some ideas for flyin’,” he said wriggling his ass on Dean’s lap. He gave Dean a few images of them flying together, then of having sex together while flying. Then he stamped a big ‘No flying sex until I’m better at flying’ in big red letters over the image. He twisted his head and smirked at Dean. “Soooo… you wanna give me some more flying lessons or not?”

Dean groaned. “The night’s young, Sammy. What’s the rush?” Kissing the side of Sam’s neck, he breathed in his scent. “You _really_ shouldn’t be able to resist me.”

“Get used to it,” Sam said with a laugh, then felt Dean stiffen. It took him a moment to recognize Gregori’s voice sounding in his head.

_They’ve found the women and are going after my newborns. I need help. I can keep them at bay for now, but there’s too many for me to take on and win._ Gregori half-demanded, half-pleaded in his mental call for aid.

Sam heard Mikhail’s orders that all Carpathian warriors were to go and protect the women. Forcing his newfound flying abilities into action, he lifted free of Dean’s grasp and hung in the air, holding a hand out to Dean. “I’m coming. I know I’m not good enough to fight beside you without being a liability, but I know I can help protect the babies on the ground. Besides, this may be another trick to pull everyone away so I’m easy pickings.”

“Sam...” Dean started to argue as he got up, but he changed his mind. There was no way he was leaving his lifemate unprotected, just as there was no way he was going to allow harm to fall on Gregori’s family. “You don’t leave my side, not for anything.” It was an order, one he expected Sam to follow, and it was there in his tone.

Grabbing Sam’s outstretched hand, he raced to the veranda, dragging his floating lifemate along. Without breaking a step, he took to the air, pulling Sam up into the air with him. 

Mikhail ordered the Carpathians to head for the house from different directions. The warriors did as he commanded, some of them almost immediately coming under attack from grotesque vampires.

“I’m no good to you in the air, or fighting against master vamps,” Sam protested as they flew towards where the women were. “I’m of better use on the ground with the women. Just give me some weapons and a sword. Then go kick some ass while I try to be eyes on the ground, and fight off anything that gets too close. It’s a better strategy and you know it,” Sam insisted. The landscape below was little more than a blur and he could sense the evil ahead. They’d be there, in the fray, in moments.

“I am not--what the--” Dean should have been concentrating on his surroundings. It took him a millisecond to realize an arrow was buried in his shoulder. And another to recognize that its tip was poisoned. “Run... Get to Mikhail... Get to them now!,” Dean shouted, pushing Sam so he hurtled through the air as far from him as possible.

_Don’t look back, just go. Go!_ Even as he started to fall towards the ground, Dean tried to back-up his command to Sam with a strong dose of compulsion.

Feeling the pain in his lifemate, Sam turned even as Dean pushed him away. _No way in hell!_ Sam responded, sending a message to Mikhail that Dean had been shot with a poisoned arrow and they were in trouble. Reaching out with his mind, he located Dracori and mind-merged himself with Dracori the way he was mind-merged with Dean. _If they succeed and take Dean and myself, I will keep this link open as long as I can so you know what is happening and can convey it to the others._

With that, he shook off the compulsion and dove after his lifemate who was falling towards the ground. Concentrating hard, Sam forced the wind to catch Dean in a strong updraft and to slow his descent. At the same time, he managed to create a small tornado, with the wind spinning around only himself and Dean.

Finally catching up to Dean, without hesitation, he pushed the arrow through and pulled it from his lover’s shoulder. He forced a miniature jet of water to form and flow through the wound, trying to rinse out any poison not yet in Dean’s bloodstream. 

Even with the tornadic winds swirling violently around them, vampires appeared, encircling them. On the other end of their deformed, malevolent grins, Sam knew they were neck deep in trouble. He held Dean up against him with one arm and imagined a sharp sword in his other hand. He swallowed hard. _It’ll be okay, Dean. Somehow, I know it will,_ he said, trying to believe it himself.

Dean didn’t say a word, but his anger at Sam’s disobedience, at Sam having put himself in danger, was palpable and crackled around them like electricity. Gathering his emotions, refocusing them, he called up more winds to help Sam. His body was out of his control now, but a full-scale hurricane, that he could manage. Still, he was quite certain it wouldn’t be enough to protect his lifemate. This was bad. It was really bad. 

Then Dean heard from Mikhail. The warriors couldn’t break off from the battle trying to save Savannah just yet. They were on their own.

Dean took a deep breath. _Sam, put your weapon down._ They might have orders not to kill Sam, but they were vampires which meant they weren’t trustworthy. They’d mess up, they’d want to prove themselves, and Sam wasn’t ready for this caliber of fight. _I said down. Now._

_But I can fight them, I know how to use a sword._ Sam protested, bucking against authority as he always did. Feeling Dean’s anger only made him want to rebel that much more, but feeling Dean’s deep concern got through to him.

They touched down on the ground and hesitantly, Sam tossed the sword away. _Okay. Any ideas? I see six vamps on us,_ he said, letting Dean see through his eyes. _I don’t think I can take on more than two and hope to win,_ he admitted reluctantly, even though he wasn’t even sure if he could beat one vampire. But he would try. For Dean, he’d try. 

_Let them take you. Remember, you can survive almost anything._ Dean swallowed and gave Sam a mental nudge to do as he commanded. He carefully walled up his own thoughts. Azazel needed Sam, so if Sam didn’t fight, he wouldn’t be injured. His own chances, as he saw them, were slim to nil. The last thing Azazel would want in this world was the lifemate of the person whose body he intended to steal. _Be brave, Fierce One. You were right. It will be okay... eventually._

Sam gave a nod, wrapping both arms around Dean and kissing his lips, tears tracking down his cheeks. _Love you._ He gently set Dean down, standing protectively over him. “Leave him be and I won’t fight!” Sam called out to the vampires.

They only laughed as they swept down on the two Carpathians.

* * *

Dean woke to the beautiful sight of Sam peering into his face. For a split second, he thought he’d had a nightmare. But then he found he couldn’t move. And not just because of the poison, which, even when unconscious, his body had started to expel. But because he was shackled to the stone walls of a large cavern.

“You alright?” he asked. His gaze swept up and down Sam’s body, and he was relieved that his lifemate was neither bruised nor chained. _We’re being watched. I feel their eyes. Don’t try to unchain me._

“Why would I want to unchain you?” Sam said, blinking once, to flash a pair of demonic yellow eyes at Dean, before letting the yellow disappear. He gave Dean a light slap. “The deal, Dean, is that they--the vampires--get to use you for food. If Sam remains silent and cooperative, you stay alive. If you stay cooperative and silent, you stay alive. If either of you screw up, well, what can I say. With you out of the picture, Sammy will just wither away until he’s lost inside this brain so far he might as well be dead.” He grinned at Dean. “Any questions?”

It was like an ice-cold bucket of water. He’d initially seen what he wanted to -- Sam, but now, now he could see that the man in front of him only looked like Sam. He didn’t speak like him. Didn’t move like him. And he sure as hell didn’t feel like him. And yet Sam was in there, trapped with that thing.

“Let me speak to him,” Dean demanded, already searching for Sam’s mind. Maybe there was some way to communicate, to reassure him. “It won’t kill you to give us a few,” he added. He already knew demons had about as much mercy as vamps, so he didn’t have high hopes for a show of any kindness. He was buying time. Making sure Azazel stayed put until the others got here. 

“Let dear little Sammy out so he can call to the others? So Dracori can see through these eyes?” Azazel tapped a finger next to his right eye. “Nope. Don’t think so, fang-boy. I can let him hear you. I can let him see you… or not. He’s watching now. Listening now. So tell your little lover whatever you want to. He’ll hear you.” Azazel said, giving Dean a smirk.

_Sam? Can you answer?_ Dean stared at Azazel. “You know he’ll get stronger and stronger. One day, he’ll expel your ass. So smirk all you like, but you don’t get to win. You never get to win.”

A vampire with an insect-like body skittered close and whipped a spiked appendage across Dean’s face, cutting him from brow to chin. “A little respect for your betters.”

Seeing the hunger on the disgusting creature’s face, Dean spat out, “don’t you fucking dare.” Not that he hadn’t spent a lot of time in a lab only a short time ago. He’d been bled and poisoned and he knew he could survive it. But he was afraid for Sam and what he was going through.

It took everything he had, but softly, faintly, Sam was able to answer Dean in short sentences. _Yes. But it’s hard. I’m okay._

Azazel gave a wave to the vampire. “Remember the rules. No unnecessary pain or torture or you’ll rile up Sammy. And no killing the Carpathian, but feel free to feed.” Turning from Dean, Azazel continued to practice with his newly acquired abilities, learning to carve and shape rock and change air temperatures in the cave.

As the vampire’s fangs sank into his cheek, Dean cursed. “Sonovabitch!” 

_Good. Keep being okay._ Biting his lips, Dean tried to pull his head away, but he was paralyzed and it was useless. He was useless, until he expelled the poison. So he concentrated harder on that and ignored the vampire noisily suckling his cheek.

*

Disgruntled, tired from the long trip, upset Sam hadn’t contacted him in the past couple days, Bobby glared at the castle. This was the last place Sam said he was. He huffed and approached it. “Ain’t never tried ringing a doorbell at a castle afore. Do I knock? Shout?” he muttered to himself.

Just as he was about to knock on the elaborately carved door, it opened. Cool questioning eyes met Bobby’s. 

“I’m here to see Sam Winchester,” Bobby demanded, then added a reluctant, “please.”

That appeared to be the magic word since he was ushered into the compound and to the grand front doors that started to open from the inside.

*

Raven passed Mikhail a jug.

Mikhail tossed its contents onto the man’s face, exchanging looks with his lifemate when the water didn’t go up in steam.

Bobby sputtered. “I’m not a damned demon! I’m Bobby Singer from the United States. Where the hell’s Sam?”

“It’s the uncle, Bobby,” Mikhail said. “Come in.” He opened the door wider, though he didn’t drop his guard. “You can leave your luggage here, it will be taken care of.”

Instinctively, Mikhail stepped between the man and Raven as they walked down the hall. “Your timing is impeccable.”

Although Bobby set down a piece of luggage, he insisted on keeping his duffel bag. “Why is my timing good?” Bobby asked as he followed the couple. He noted the woman was pretty, but so petite compared to the large, broad-shouldered man that from a distance, she might be taken for a child. His gaze slid over his surroundings, taking in everything. He wondered if the pair were Carpathians. For all he knew, they could be regular vamps and he’d never know the difference until it was too late.

“In here.” Mikhail gestured, then followed the man inside. 

Dracori looked up from the map. “We have narrowed the area--” He straightened and raised an eyebrow.

“Sam’s uncle. He’s well informed about demons,” Mikhail told him. “Raven, something strong for Mr. Singer.”

Raven was already headed for the wet bar, which they kept for show, and for the occasional human visitor. 

By the time Dracori introduced himself, she’d returned with a glass.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bobby said, accepting the glass of whiskey. He took a sip and lifted an eyebrow. This was high quality alcohol. Then again, he was in a God-damned castle. It oughta be good whiskey. “Something’s happened to Sam. The demon got its claws into him, didn’t it? Where’s this Dean guy who swept Sam off his feet and outta his mind?”

Mikhail searched Bobby’s face for signs of hostility. Humans didn’t understand their ways and were skeptical. If it were just that, there would be no problem. But if the man’s hunter biases made themselves known, then they could have one. “Yes, the demon has him. It has both of them. What we know is this. Dean is incapacitated by a poison, but he does have the ability to communicate with us. Sam is--”

“That bastard demon is inside him,” Dracori broke in. “It was inside me before. It was--” he gave a visible shudder. “When Sam fights it, when he surfaces, I can see through his eyes and hear what he hears. I’ve caught small glimpses.”

Although Bobby had braced himself, his look turned from dour to dangerous.

Mikhail walked around the table and slapped his palm over the map. “They’re somewhere here, in an area filled with caverns. An area where vampires like to nest and hide from us. But we will find them.” He raised his head to look at Bobby. “Do you know what a devil’s trap is?”

“Do I know what a devil’s trap is? Who do you think taught that boy and his daddy about them?” Bobby slung his bag around and set it on a cushioned chair. Unzipping it, he pulled out a book that looked relatively new. “The book of Solomon--well, a copy of it I had made for Sam. Just about anything you wanna know about devil’s traps is in this book.” 

Mikhail exchanged amused looks with Raven. The man was right, it had been a stupid question, given that Bobby was a hunter. “Yes, well, we don’t have a lot of experience dealing with demons of the sort you apparently deal with. This Azazel has given us a reason to do so. He has two of our people. Your enemies are now our enemies.”

“I caught a glimpse,” Dracori announced, and found everyone immediately looking towards him. “Through Sam, I saw Dean. He’s chained to a wall, still unable to move. Vampires feed from him.”

Raven turned her back to the men and walked to the window to look outside.

“Raven.” Mikhail didn’t follow her. “Dean is not a stranger to torture. For him, this is--”

She turned around. “I know, you’re all _he-men_ and can take anything but your mate’s pain. Just find him, find Sam, and end this,” she demanded.

Gregori walked in through another door and heard Raven’s words. “We are not he-men. That would require a magic sword and apparently a green tiger to ride as a mount,” Gregori said. “We are, however, accustomed to doing what we must to see evil defeated and, with that battle, there is often pain. Our mates soothe our souls like a salve without which we would be lost. Of course we will find Dean and Sam, Raven. The demon made a serious mistake bringing the attention of Carpathian warriors to its kind.” Glancing at Bobby, he gave a slight nod. “Welcome to our land, Uncle of Sam. Sam is a very strong young man who has already become family. We welcome your assistance and I hope you welcome ours.”

“He’s not only strong, but can be damned sneaky when he wants to be.” Bobby snorted. Carefully, he pulled out a thick fabric bag and opened it and began to gently set out square pieces of ebony wood inlaid with an assortment of other woods and metals. “This here is a modified curse box. I can’t one hundred percent guarantee it’ll work, but it oughta work, once I assemble it. When it’s assembled, if we can somehow trap the demon inside the box -- when he’s in his black smoke form -- it should hold him permanent-like. Another box might have to be made every five hundred or a thousand years to drop this one into, just so age doesn’t make it deteriorate.” 

Bobby glanced at the map, taking in the scale and narrowed his eyes. “Samuel Colt, the inventor of the Colt guns, he made himself a devil’s trap, a huge one, by putting churches at the points of a pentagram and laying cold iron train rails down. There’s a gate to hell there, or so the legends say. Maybe we could, I dunno, emulate that, make sure Sammy and that demon can’t get out of the area. Then we just gotta find ‘em, exorcise that demon and figure out how to get him to jump in the box. Piece of cake,” Bobby said, having no idea how they could actually do any of it, but he figured he could toss his ideas out and the vamps--the Carpathians--could punch holes in it and tell him he was full of shit.

Gregori glanced at the others. “It would be difficult to generate that much iron from air without alerting the vampires to our use of power. There are plenty of old, unused iron railroad pieces we can scavenge instead. Rails are made of steel now. Yes, if we can narrow the area of interest, that is feasible. We can fight the vampires, but cornering Azazel inside the maze of caves will not be easy. Further, so long as he has Dean, the vampires will be strong, and Sam will be reluctant to fight, fearing for his lifemate’s welfare. I think our two first orders of business are to attempt to narrow the location down and find a way to free Dean. Perhaps I could shapeshift and try to find Dean. If I can get close enough, I can purify his body of the poison,” Gregori suggested. 

“I saw slime on the walls. The caverns must be near a water source,” Dracori said, looking at Gregori.

“We already know there is an extraordinary amount of vampire taint in the air in this area here,” Mikhail pointed at the map. “There are subterranean rivers here and here,” he looked up. “Are you familiar with the area, Gregori?”

“It has been a long time, but yes. There are plenty of bats inhabiting those caves. I believe I could slip in unnoticed as one. It will take time to move through the caverns without drawing attention to myself and hiding my essence from the vampires. Then I will have to wait until I can heal Dean without drawing attention to us. I would suggest that by the time I escape with Dean, the devil’s trap should be built. Once the demon loses his leverage, I suspect he will attempt to move on quickly.”

“Freeing him is one thing, escaping with him another.” Mikhail gave Gregori a look. All of them knew there was no way Dean would leave that place without Sam. “We’ll build this trap, so Azazel cannot leave. Then we’ll come to you in full force. Bobby will perform the exorcism.”

“Sam said that sends a demon back to hell. Azazel may come back,” Dracori pointed out.

“No. We will force the essence of the demon into that curse box, the same way we command the elements.”

Dracori raised a brow at Mikhail’s confidence. “How do you know it will work?”

“It will work, because it must.”

* * * 

Time passed. Dean couldn’t keep track of it anymore. He was busy fighting his own demons. He’d managed to expel a lot of the poison, and if he tried, he could probably move his limbs. But he couldn’t let the vampires know, so he sat there and took it when the vampires viciously tore into him to take his powerful Carpathian blood. 

A few times, he’d pointed out that if he wasn’t fed, his blood would weaken and be of less use to satisfy their hunger. But the vampires were too crazed to listen to reason. Several had already maimed each other, fighting over which one would feed from Dean next. 

And then there were the visits from Azazel. The demon was frustrated. He’d thought he would immediately have all of the powers of a Carpathian, but he hadn’t counted on Sam not knowing how to use the powers yet. Sam wasn’t a born Carpathian, thus unlike when Azazel had taken over Dracori’s body, Sam’s couldn’t do everything Azazel wanted it to... not instinctively.

He repeatedly demanded information from Dean on how to control his powers. Dean would only give him information in dribs and drabs, on condition that Azazel would allow him to see and speak to Sam. Most of the time, he knew it was Azazel and not Sam that he exchanged words with. But once in a while, he saw Sam in there. Each time, he brushed his mind, trying to show him he knew the difference because he sensed Sam’s agitation at the thought that he was being tricked by Azazel.

*

Azazel had his own little batch of prisoners that he fed from. It irritated him that he couldn’t kill any of them without the Carpathian body apparently eventually turning into one of those foul creatures that fed on the fool in chains. He wasn’t sure if Sam’s thoughts were truthful, or an effort to protect the humans. However, he did not want to take the risk. These vampires were worse than demons of any rank. Demons usually had motives for what they did, even if it was just to terrorize and destroy. They weren’t crazy, not like the vampires were. He needed to finish learning how to do the things he knew the body was capable of, and then leave this place. 

Azazel’s flying skills improved, though he found that he still didn’t have Dracori’s speed. Sam had mastered weather control, at least of the wind, and Dean had instructed him on how to shape and control the other elements. Shapeshifting was another skill he was determined to gain some understanding of before moving on. It could take him years to figure that out without assistance. He also knew he could become mist, but feared if he did, he might lose control of the body to Sam. He wanted to shift into a dog. From there, he could change into a hellhound. Carpathians knew little of demons and he was fairly certain that as a hellhound, they wouldn’t be able to see him or smell him, and that would give him the edge to get away undetected. Of course, he kept all these thoughts carefully hidden from Sam.

Approaching Dean, Azazel gave him a smile, even showing off Sam’s dimples. Sam had never tried compulsion, but that didn’t stop Azazel from making the effort of throwing in a little compulsion as he spoke with Dean.

“I have a deal for you. I want to shape-shift. If you help me, I’ll let you kiss your lover. Once I’ve succeeded, I’ll even see to it you’re fed. From me or from one of my blood banks hidden away in another part of the caves. What do you say, Dean?”

Sam struggled against Azazel’s bonds, seething at the idea of Azazel putting his filthy mouth on his lifemate. He knew the demon would never really let him kiss Dean. _No!_ he screamed at Azazel over and over, fighting harder than he had in a while. 

_Stop it. Behave yourself and I’ll let you kiss him,_ Azazel snapped at him while still giving Dean a charming smile.

Mikhail and Gregori were coming for them. Dean knew they would. He had to stall the demon for a little longer, and they’d be here. “From you. Only from you,” Dean slurred his words and let his gaze linger on Azazel’s throat. “Sammy.” He smiled, then blinked. “Too much, they took too much. Can’t help you... not unless you feed me first,” he slurred. 

_Let me feed him. Please. Let me feed him and kiss him,_ Sam begged Azazel. _We both know once you leave here, the vamps will kill him. When he dies, I won’t care anymore. This body will be yours. You can do what you want. Give me this and I’ll-I’ll try to help you get the information you want._

Azazel considered for several seconds, weighing the options. _This becomes a binding deal. You don’t get full control, but fine, you can kiss him and feed him only enough to give him some strength. Not enough to weaken this body. If you break the deal, I’ll take him away from these vampires, take him and torture him, and bury him far from his needed soil until he goes mad with hunger and pain. Do we understand each other?_

_Yes,_ Sam agreed quietly.

Azazel loosened Sam’s bonds enough that he could clearly speak and see Dean. Azazel was ready to rip him away and bury him so deeply Sam wouldn’t ever see his lover again if Sam even hinted at breaking their agreement.

“Dean? Dean?” Sam said, tears slipping down his cheeks as he touched Dean’s brutalized body. “C’mon, Mouse, look at me. It’s me, I’m really here. It’s Sam. He’s giving us this if you help him. He’ll let me feed you and kiss you. Oh God, Baby,” he said pulling Dean into his arms and stroking his hair.

“Shshsh. This is not the end,” Dean whispered, wanting so badly to rip his hand free of the chains so he could close his arm around Sam. He brushed his mind, trying to sooth him, but knowing he couldn’t say much because he didn’t know how much Sam was capable of hiding from this demon. “Kiss me then. And tell _it_ I don’t want demon tongue in my mouth. Fucking vamps are bad enough.”

Sam gave a nod and pulled Dean back so he could look into his eyes. “I love you,” he said then, cupping the back of Dean’s head, brought their lips together, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth. He gave Dean the most passionate kiss he could, knowing that no matter what Dean said, it might be their last kiss. There was no knowing if Azazel would let him out like this again. He didn’t dare contact anyone, unsure if the demon would pick it up. He wouldn’t risk it. He couldn’t.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hold Sam physically. Dean wrapped them in a fantasy, where his arms enveloped Sam and held him close as they kissed. He stroked Sam’s tongue with his, and explored every corner of his mouth, kissing him like their true surroundings didn’t count. There would be a tomorrow, and a next day. And what he couldn’t tell Sam, he tried to show him. _You’re my lifemate, and I do not give you up to anyone or anything. I don’t care if he hears._

_Sshhh,_ Sam told him, burning this into his memory like a brand. He kissed Dean as long as he could, until he felt Azazel give him a nudge. He finally broke off the kiss. “Sorry. That’s it, for now. Now I can feed you. Then you get him started on the shapeshifting, okay? Might come in handy.” He gave Dean as brave a smile as he could and opened his shirt. He slashed a wound open over his heart and settled Dean so Dean could drink from him. He closed his eyes, taking Dean into his own fantasy of them naked, making love, and feeding Dean like this as his hands roamed over his body.

_Sammy..._ Dean mentally groaned as he tumbled willingly into the world Sam built for them, a place where they could make love as he thirstily drank his lifemate’s sweet, spicy lifeblood. Sensing the same taint that had been in Sam’s blood, when Sam had been forced to ingest demon blood, Dean formulated a plan.

As he drank, he deepened the erotic fantasy that Sam spun for them, deepened it, and dragged the demon into into it, whether it wanted it or not. He hated its presence there, he wanted to expel it, to push it back out, but he needed to keep it busy. And he did, all the while filtering Sam’s blood without its knowledge. Cutting and loosening the dark clumps that were bound to Sam’s blood, ridding him of it a little at a time. It might help Sam surface when he needed. Or it might help him expel the demon, if he figured out how their bodies worked. If not today, or tomorrow, or next month, or next year... it might help him some time. 

_Thank you. I’ve had enough,_ he eventually whispered into Sam’s mind, closing his wound and moving his head slightly to bring their mouths together. He knew they might notice that he’d moved, but it was a slight motion, and knowing the vampires and their vanity, they might not care. They saw him as beaten and as their slave. 

Sam sighed with contentment as he held Dean, as he kissed Dean. It hadn’t been real, the fantasy, but it had felt real and possible and wonderful. _I would heal your wounds, but I fear the vampires would only recreate them, making it worse,_ Sam told him. He finally broke the kiss and stared into Dean’s eyes. “He says we can kiss again the first time he successfully manages to shape change. Don’t make me wait long, Hunk.” He gave Dean a final light kiss and carefully settled him against the wall so he was as comfortable as he could be.

Sam mentally stepped back into the shadows, relinquishing his body without a fight.

“Okay, lover boy, time to meet your part of the bargain. Teach me,” Azazel demanded.

* * * 

Several Carpathians were in the process of raising old and no longer in use iron tracks from the ground, and from depos. The tracks were lifted into the air, then laid down in the pattern that Sam had previously drawn for them. Kicking and cursing, Bobby had agreed to take flight with Dracori to supervise from the air and make sure the trap was exactly as it should be.

They would have been faster if there hadn’t been vampire activity. Everything in Mikhail had railed against his lifemate’s suggestion that the women take care of providing shadows to cover the presence of the warriors, freeing them up to create the trap and slay any vampires who detected their activity. And so it was that one part of him concentrated on Raven, their daughter Savannah, who Gregori had all but ordered not to come, Dracori’s lifemate and a few others, who stood in a circle chanting and weaving their magic.

Each time it became evident that a vampire came too close or was investigating something, the warriors converged on it, making certain it could not report on their activities or call for help. Mikhail had made it clear, if Azazel got wind of the trap before it was set, he might be able to evade them by simply misting, or shifting into the form of a small animal. 

*

Sam listened as Dean attempted to explain how to shape shift to Azazel. Sam knew it would be so much easier if Dean wasn’t paralyzed and they could simply share thoughts. Then Dean could shift and help Sam try to. Even though Azazel was in Sam’s body, Azazel seemed unwilling to merge with Dean, and was definitely unwilling to free Dean of the poison. The vampires were his guard dogs for the time being at least, and they could be troublesome if riled.

Azazel tried multiple times to shift into a dog, but everything he tried, he simply couldn’t get Sam’s body to cooperate. He accused Sam of trying to sabotage him. _I’m not doing anything!_ Sam protested. _If you shift, I get to kiss Dean again. Why would I be trying to stop you?_

Azazel reluctantly accepted Sam’s denials, and tried to push Sam deeper, attempting to ensure Sam couldn’t be affecting his efforts. When Sam laughed at him, it definitely didn’t improve the demon’s mood.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he shouted at Dean, gripping him by the throat. “You’re holding back something key, stopping me from achieving shifting! What is it?”

Dean didn’t acknowledge any pain, but stared back into Azazel’s disconcerting yellow eyes. “Merge with my mind. I’ll show you,” he said. Both of them knew that if he got fully into Sam’s mind, he would compel Sam’s body to obey, or he would fight to set Sam free, if he could.

Azazel dropped Dean, kicking him in the ribs just for good measure. “You take me for a fool? Start at the beginning and let’s try this again. First I bring into my mind the exact image of what I want to shift into...”

* * *

Even as the fucking vampire sucked on the wound in his thigh, Dean waited, his patience wearing thin but, exerting iron control over his emotions, he sat there took it. Took it even though he could easily break free now that he’d expelled most of the poison from his body. 

The truth of the matter was that he might be able to take one or two of these vampires out, even in his semi-weakened condition. But there were more, and he wasn’t in top form. And he was afraid what might happen. Azazel was diabolical, and from what Sam had shared with him about demons, Dean had to believe that Azazel would go so far as to injure Sam’s body in order to gain an advantage.

“Aren’t you full yet, you sonovabitch?” Dean snarled at the vampire who greedily dug it gnarled up teeth deeper into the wound on his thigh.

“I think he’s finished,” Gregori said as he suddenly shifted from a bat into his full Carpathian body. Slamming a hand through the vampire’s back, he ripped out its heart, turning the heart to ash in his hand. He tore the body away from Dean and with a slight gesture, he had the vampire’s body exploding into flames.

“You up to a bit of a brawl?” Gregori asked Dean, snapping the chains on him as if they were little more than paper.

“What took you so long? Here you always pretended not to be the type to stop and smell the roses. Speaking of roses,” he wrinkled his nose in silent complaint of the foul smell of the vampires. Taking Gregori’s hand, he pulled himself up and shook out his slightly stiff limbs.

“Getting in here without being noticed took some time.” Gregori gave an offhanded shrug. “You are certain you’re up to a fight?” 

“I was able to expel almost all of the poison,” Dean said with a nod. He passed his hand over the wound in his thigh, to stop the bleeding, then turned bodily towards the mouth of the cavern. “There were more vampires at first. I think several have left. There are maybe six or eight.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Let’s go find _him_.”

_Timing will be important,_ Gregori said as they began walking. _A large devil’s trap has been laid down. The demon will not be able to leave the area. Uncle Bobby has assembled the box into which we must exorcise the demon. Mikhail and the others are making their attack now that I have reached you and will take care of any vampires they encounter. Dracori is tasked with keeping the demon-box safe as they work their way towards us. You felt concern that the demon may hurt your lifemate. How do you wish to proceed?_

Dean’s face turned grim. “We have to surprise him. Once I have him, I’ll hold him down and won’t let him hurt himself-- hurt Sam’s body.” Storms gathered in his eyes as he thought about how the demon had already hurt Sam, enslaving him, imprisoning his mind and soul. “No mercy,” he snarled, and with Gregori, headed out of the cavern into the endless corridors of stone tunnels.

Gregori surrounded them both with a shield of sorts, making their presence harder to detect. As Dean led the way toward the demon-controlled Sam, Gregori separated now and again to eradicate any fledgling vampire they encountered, wasting no time with banter or mercy. Some vampires realized Carpathian ancients were in the caverns and opted to retreat, only to encounter Mikhail’s group. Two master vampires were ahead.

_I will tend to these two. You must continue on or you will lose the advantage of surprise. You must hide yourself from your lifemate completely, no matter how painful it is. Let them both, the demon and your lifemate, think you are dead. Go!_ Gregori sped forward, shielding Dean from the vampires while drawing their wrath. 

Two master vampires to fight in close quarters. That was not a situation he would often leave a fellow Carpathian in. But Gregori was an ancient, like himself, and with the others already entering the cavern system, Dean would have to trust that Gregori would be alright. But the thing Gregori asked of him, to stop touching Sam’s mind, it hurt to think of it. 

_I’m his only solace in all of this_. A heartbeat passed and then Dean cut all ties to his lifemate, an ice-cold sensation blossoming in his gut. He fought the natural fear that invaded his soul, the fear of being alone again, of losing his lifemate, of losing everything. And he knew that Sam was alive, but what did this cost Sam? Sam neither knew what Dean was doing, nor was he used to the deep loneliness of his kind, when separated from their lifemates.

He ran at high speeds, destroying a few fledglings. He knew where he’d last felt Sam’s presence, and even outside his mind, he sensed a Carpathian in the deeper caverns. It was his lifemate. It had to be. 

* 

Azazel was feeding from his own private stock of humans in chains when he felt the sudden painful stab go through him. He no longer sensed Sam’s lifemate. He reached out, only to find nothing. He did not expect the sudden wound, the hole he felt in the essence of his Carpathian body.

Sam was silent, stunned. His need, his reason for fighting Azazel was gone. The vampires must have… lost control. Without Dean, why should he care? Why should he bother to even exist. Dean was his everything. ...And Azazel had taken Dean from him. He turned his attention to Azazel. If he could have, a sinister smile would have curled his lips.

_You’ve lost your leverage,_ Sam told Azazel softly. _I don’t have a reason to live. And if you think I’m going to let you keep this body, you’re wrong. Dead wrong._ He understood his own mental pathways far better than Azazel, and how to access powers Azazel had yet to touch or even discover. _Let’s see what demonic blood and Carpathian abilities really can do,_ Sam hissed as he let the dark side rise in him. Sam began to fight with Azazel with everything he had. If he burned himself out, it didn’t matter, so long as Azazel went with him.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean strode into a cavern of human misery, with people chained to the walls, groaning, praying, and slowly dying. The air was thick with the scent of their suffering. Beyond that, he sensed Sam’s nearness. And heard shouting. There were English words interspersed with Latin, and Sam’s voice.

In a fraction of a second, Dean was inside the entrance to the adjoining cavern, his eyes greeted by an eerie sight. His life mate stood in front of him and was gesturing wildly, his eyes going from amber to green, and back, as the battle over Sam’s body raged between his lifemate and the demon. 

It was all the advantage Dean needed. In two strides, he had Sam in his arms, in an unbreakable hold. Pushing himself fully into Sam’s mind, he whispered a command. _Merge with me. Now._

That Dean was there, that Dean was alive, shocked Sam. Azazel was equally startled, feeling the Carpathian respond to its other half. Before Azazel could react, unaccustomed as he was to dealing with the overwhelming feelings of love in Sam, Sam opened the floodgates. His mind embraced, entwined, and merged with Dean’s, binding them together as if they were one soul. Azazel couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it from happening.

_Hi baby. I came to help you take the trash out._ Sensing Mikhail and the others entering the chamber behind him, Dean expanded into every corner of Sam’s mind and soul, pushing... shoving... surrounding and trapping everything that was Azazel.

Sam helped Dean, finding the parts of ‘his’ mind that was Azazel, making certain the demon couldn’t maintain control by burying itself and hiding in the deepest recesses of Sam’s mind. Blinking, Sam could see clearly through his own physical eyes. The Carpathians were using chalk to inscribe a devil’s trap on the cavern floor around him. In what felt like a matter of moments, it was complete. He saw Dracori step forward and set down a black box that vaguely reminded Sam of one of the boxes Bobby made to contain cursed objects.

_Keep him under control,_ Sam said, then he began the exorcism anew, finally able to use his own voice. The Latin rolled off his tongue easily, echoing loudly around them. 

Mentally muttering _my pleasure,_ Dean made sure that Azazel was not only contained, but also as uncomfortable as Dean could make it for him. Keeping the demon in mental anguish, he used his own methods to force it out, while Sam used hunter methods. Dean could hear a deep voice chanting with Sam, and identified it as the other hunter, Uncle Bobby.

On the edges of the devil’s trap, Mikhhail passed his hand over the body of yet another vampire who’d come to aid its master. It went up in flames. He turned his attention back to the men in the middle of the trap. 

A wind started to whip around the cavern. The walls started to shake. 

_Get out, you sonovabitch_ Dean snarled, just as a crack developed in the stone ceiling, allowing a flood of water to gush down over them and forcing Dean to lose hold of his lifemate.

Azazel smiled, freed from Sam’s control and Dean’s grip. He was back in control of Sam’s body and would be certain to keep it that way. He moved with lightning speed, heading for the exit, and it was as if he hit an invisible wall. He couldn’t go anywhere. He was still trapped, by something he could not see. “But the devil’s trap is wrecked!” he howled, baffled.

Dean used that moment to recapture him, holding him firmly.

Gregori, looking a bit the worse for his fight with the vampires, gave a deep laugh. “The chalk was just a guide. So I could be certain the veins of quartz were correctly generated.” He gave a wave of his hand, sealing the crack in the ceiling. Beneath the thin coating of water, white quartz glimmered, imbedded in the stone floor. “We can generate wind currents to mark the lines, or ice, or fire, or vines of plants. We can bind closed any crack you attempt to make before you’ve time to move. You’re done.”

Bobby continued the exorcism when it was clear the demon had managed to wrest control back. His voice rose above the wind and he gave a grim smile when he heard Sam’s voice once again join him as the final line of the exorcism was spoken.

Black smoke rushed out of Sam’s mouth as Sam’s legs gave out. With the black smoke, a scream was pulled from Sam’s throat as fire and energy seared his insides when Azazel was forced from his body. 

Feeling the expulsion, and then Sam’s body going lax against his, Dean held him a little tighter, and turned around to see the black smoke getting sucked into the simple looking wooden box. He kissed Sam’s temple, and spoke to him. _It’s over. You’re... we... are free of that thing forever. It’s nothing now._

Bobby slapped the box’s lid shut with a satisfying sound, then locked it up. “Well, what are you staring at? Shove this thing where it will never see the sun,” he groused at Mikhail.

Unused to being spoken to in that manner by any save his lifemate and close friends, Mikhail’s lips quirked. He exchanged looks with the other Carpathians. They all focused, concentrating, and the box disappeared into the bedrock under their feet. “We’ll seal all entrances to this place,” Mikhail confirmed. 

“And add devil’s traps through the stones here,” Gregori added, giving Mikhail a smirk.

Sam clutched at Dean, tears slipping down his face. “I thought you were dead. Don’t ever do that again. Or I’ll kill you myself,” he scolded fiercely. Sam got his feet under him and straightened, pulling Dean into a smoldering kiss. _My mom and dad can rest easy now. That yellow-eyed bastard is gone. Have I told you lately how much I love you?_

_I won’t. Tell me again, I’ll never tire of hearing it,_ he answered, kissing Sam back with the desperation of a man who’d thought he’d never hold his lifemate again. _I love you._

A low, insistent cough echoed from near them.

Breaking the kiss, Dean pressed his hand into the small of Sam’s back, pushing him slightly forward. “I think Uncle Bobby wants to say hello. Just make sure his hands don’t stay on you too long.” 

Sam turned to Bobby and broke into a huge grin. Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around the hunter, lifted him up, hugging him tightly, but not so tight as to hurt him. “We did it! Mom and Dad, they’d be happy.” He set Bobby down. “So I guess you’ve made friends with the Carpathians.”

Bobby made a disgruntled sound. “You should’a been more careful. I’m just glad the next time you give me a heart attack, I’ll know it’s not that damned demon.”

“Why does everyone accuse me of giving them heart attacks?” Sam complained. “And can we get out of here? I’ve got some catching up to do.” He slapped Bobby on the back. “I can’t wait to hear everything that happened when you arrived.” He glanced back at Dean and gave him a leer, making it obvious what sort of catching up he intended to do with Dean as soon as they could. “And wait until you see Dean’s cars.”

* * * 

They’d been home for a few hours now. Dean had insisted that Maria and Ivan join them for dinner, partly so that Bobby wouldn’t be the only one actually eating. He’d been amused at Sam’s occasional attempts to eat because old habits died hard. _Try the vegetables_ he’d told Sam, since vegetables and fruits were what Carpathians ate if they needed to appear human.

They’d done a partial tour of the mansion, and spent time in the garage. Now it was just the three of them in one of the living rooms. Dean’s mind brushed Sam’s more and more often, sometimes giving Sam glimpses of what he needed. Some alone time with his lifemate. _When can we..._ Dean sent Sam a mental image of them getting down and dirty, when he felt Bobby’s eyes looking at them speculatively. _Please tell me it’s not time for a speech._

_You’re incorrigible,_ Sam said giving Dean a look plainly telling him to behave. “So are you more comfortable with me and Dean being together? Convinced it’s real and I’m not out of my head?”

Bobby’s gaze shifted between the two men. He gave a soft snort. “If either of you two were more head-over-heels for the other, I think you’d never leave the house.” With a slight shake of his head he pushed himself to his feet. “I’m still not thrilled it was rushed, and that you had to… stop being human, but what I seen of them others, yeah, they ain’t evil. So I’ll come to terms with it. It’s your life Sam. I just want you to be happy. And you,” he turned his glower on Dean. “You better keep this boy safe. Now, this old man is worn down to nothing and has a full stomach and too much whiskey in him. Point me toward my bedroom so you two lovebirds can...” he waved his hand, wiggling his fingers, “catch up and no I don’t want details.”

“He’s safer than he’s ever been,” Dean said, his feelings about Sam’s safety being of primary concern very much in line with Bobby’s. He got up, and before Sam could say a thing about guest rooms inside the mansion, he gestured toward the door to the hall. 

“You’ll be staying at the old dower house. It’s on the grounds but down the road a ways. Ivan will drive you and leave the car there for you so you can return in the morning.” Seeing the surprised looks from both Bobby and Sam, and knowing one or the other would say just a room in the mansion would be fine, he added. “Just so you don’t hear all the ‘chirping.’” He put his hand behind Sam’s back and grinned. He didn’t have to say which of the two love birds he was implying would do all the chirping.

Sam felt his face flush at Dean’s comment. He _was_ loud when he and Dean were making love. Not to mention they tended to end up in several different rooms over the course of the night. Sam gave Bobby an embarrassed smile. “Uhm, I hate to say it, but uh, Dean’s probably right. But be sure to come up for breakfast, Maria is an awesome cook, and then Ivan can show you the town. We’ll be up before the sun sets, but,” his flush deepened, “I’m kinda betting we won’t make it outta bed until, uh, maybe seven at night. Being beat...”

Bobby raised his hand, clearly telling Sam he’d heard enough. “I’ll see you two tomorrow night in the tavern at 9. All right?”

Sam grinned sheepishly and nodded.

Bobby shook his head as he headed off to find Ivan, muttering under his breath about newlyweds. 

* * * 

Sam made Dean wait until he was certain Bobby had left the house, which Dean was not pleased about. As soon as Sam heard the car pull away, he focused his gaze on Dean and gave him a seductive smile. Without any more warning, he tackled Dean onto the plush couch and crushed their lips together. _I can’t believe I’m really free of that demon,_ Sam said, reveling in tangling his tongue with Dean’s, of feeling him beneath him, of breathing in his unique scent. Dean’s shirt disintegrated and Sam ran his hands over his lover’s bare flesh. _How the hell did I get so lucky?_ he asked, already thinking of how Dean’s blood would taste to him, just the thought making him hard.

Raising his head slightly, Dean kissed Sam with wild abandon, his hands roving over Sam’s back and pulling him closer. The sudden press of Sam’s prominent erection against his thigh had his own body reacting. Groaning, he cupped Sam’s ass with both hands and shifted him, dragging him more completely over his body, gasping as their cocks made contact. _I sense your hunger. What do you hunger for?_ Dean asked, fueling Sam’s hungers with mental imagery and by allowing him to feel Dean’s needs. 

_You,_ Sam answered simply. Others had touched his lifemate. Filthy vampires had tasted his sweet, erotic essence. His lover had been chained and paralyzed. His own male Carpathian need to protect, possess, and claim his lifemate brought a needful growl to his throat and images erupted in his mind of everything he wanted. He wanted to take Dean, dominate him, establish Dean was his, he wanted to be inside his lover as he drank from him. He showed Dean what he wanted, what he needed, breaking their kiss as he pulled back, looking into Dean’s eyes. He understood Dean’s darkness, and that his beast might not take well to his desires, so he met Dean’s gaze and waited for his answer. 

Head tilted back, Dean watched Sam from under his lashes, his chest heaving slightly under the press of Sam’s large hands. A part of him was surprised, but another part of him had expected this. “Show me again,” he said, his voice low and raspy. As he sifted through the images... through Sam’s desires, his skin burned everywhere that Sam touched him and a flush spread over his body. 

Raising his hips and pressing his rock-hard erection against Sam, he answered Sam’s silent question. _The beast wants whatever you want._

Sam’s pupils dilated even more as heat rushed through him at the thought of taking Dean that way. He rarely had a desire to top, but this was a carnal need, and a need to prove to himself he was truly back in control of his life, his thoughts, and his body.

Although his body was aflame with desire, he kissed Dean deeply, his hands slowly caressing Dean’s body until he felt Dean’s nipple under his fingers. He gently rubbed and twisted until it hardened under his touch. He kissed his way along Dean’s jaw and down to his throat, where he sucked hard, but kept his fangs away. He reached between them, undoing the button to Dean’s jeans, his mind flashing back to the images Dean had put in his mind that night in the garden, of him between Dean’s legs, Dean’s cock buried deeply in his mouth. A groan vibrated deep in his chest. 

“Sam...” His lifemate’s name erupted from Dean’s throat as Sam’s thoughts filled his head and his body reacted with an almost violent need to make the thoughts a reality. Sweeping Sam’s hands aside with an impatience he couldn’t hide, Dean almost magicked his clothes off. But something stopped him. Something in Sam’s eyes.

Giving a nod, he pulled his hands away, though he couldn’t help making Sam’s shirt dissolve. “I want what you showed me.” It was a demand.

Sam smiled devilishly at Dean. “We are going to have to work on this concept of patience. And your lack of it,” he teased. Fastening his mouth on Dean’s nipple, he laved his tongue around and around it and his hands worked on opening Dean’s pants. Of course he could make the pants disappear but he wanted both of them to feel the needs building in them. Finally sliding his hand between fabric and skin, he gripped Dean’s leaking cock, squeezing and exploring it as if for the first time. His other hand slid to the small of Dean’s back, his fingers rubbing and pressing into the tight muscles. He began to work his way down Dean’s chest, pausing to nip or suck tender flesh into his mouth. In the depths of his mind his inner voice chanted _mine_. 

Dean’s entire body shuddered with sheer pleasure. A hiss escaped his lips and he almost bolted up when he felt the scrape of Sam’s teeth across his sensitive flesh. _Oh God, baby, there aren’t enough hours in the night..._ Letting out a hot breath, he stroked Sam’s hair with one hand, and kneaded his shoulder with the other, his fingers occasionally biting into Sam’s flesh. “We’re going to have to work on speed, your lack of it...” Groaning again, Dean pressed himself down onto the sofa and prayed for control.

Sam gave a small chuckle then let his tongue slip into Dean’s navel, pausing to pulse there for a moment. With a thought Dean’s pants vanished. _Scoot further up the couch,_ Sam said, helping Dean slide up. His gaze met Dean’s, then he looked down at Dean’s erect cock. After closing his large hand around its base, he slowly sucked the crown into his mouth. Running his hand up and down Dean’s length, his mouth began to follow, his fingers slipping down to finger Dean’s heavy balls. He paused to tongue Dean’s slit before sucking him deeply into his throat again. Closing his eyes, he took in the scent and taste of his aroused lover, heat coiling inside him so hot he thought he might burst into flame.

“I thought you were going to do the chirping,” Dean managed, his fingers digging into Sam’s shoulder and his hips lifting up on their own accord. His eyes grew dark and hot as he watched his cock slip deeper into the velvet heat of Sam’s mouth. 

Pushing himself up onto an elbow, Dean landed a messy kiss Sam’s temple. It wasn’t enough. He forced himself up to a sitting position, cradling Sam between his thighs as he looked down at the dark head of hair, bobbing as Sam swallowed him down. “Fuck....” his breaths came out harsh and shallow as Sam did things to him that made it hard for Dean to think straight. Reaching down, he ran his hands over Sam’s back, and started to send mental images to him, of himself, kissing his way down Sam’s back, and moving his mouth over Sam’s ass. 

Sam gave a surprised moan as he ‘felt’ Dean kissing his back and then investigating his ass cheeks and moving to his cleft. He moved his fingers down to Dean’s hole and began pressing against tight puckered flesh, alternating between that and sucking Dean’s cock, now fully in his mouth and throat. His own ass lifted as Dean’s mental touches made it seem like Dean was there, right there. It made his cock leak harder and his hips rock. He finally slipped a finger inside of Dean, curling and brushing over Dean’s prostate.

Dean froze for a moment, a deep groan leaving him as he processed the intense sensations wreaking havoc with his senses. Deciding he wanted it again, he started to thrust into Sam’s mouth, fucking it slowly, but steadily, and angling his hips to force Sam’s finger to penetrate him again. Each time Sam pressed against his prostate, Dean was tugged deeper into the web of lust they were weaving.

The next time Sam lifted up, Dean managed to hook his leg around Sam’s leg, positioning his foot so that when Sam lowered down, his balls and the base of his cock pressed against Dean’s heel. Now Dean could give Sam some pressure exactly where his lifemate needed it and they could pleasure each other until one of them broke. 

_Have you ever been taken this way?”_ Sam asked as he slipped a second finger in Dean’s hole, beginning to stretch and scissor open his lover. Grunts and groans escaped him as he felt Dean’s foot offering him much needed pressure. Though it was hard to concentrate, he managed to make himself start to hum around Dean’s thick cock. 

A clap of thunder sounded from outside and hard rain pounded against the closed shutters. “No.” Dean barely managed to get the word out, gasping at the instant feedback he got from Sam. It was almost the same as the roar of the beast, claiming someone as its own and reveling at being the only one to be able to draw a certain reaction. “Just you... only you,” he rasped, groaning as Sam reacted the way he’d expected. He started to fuck Sam’s mouth harder, knowing Sam didn’t have to breathe and that he couldn’t hurt Sam anymore and no longer needed to be careful. “Yeah.... oh, yeah, Sammy,” he groaned, writhing, and only just remembering to press his heel into Sam’s balls.

Sam forced himself to insert a third finger rather than to stop and take Dean after his admission. He would be Dean’s first and he would be Dean’s only. It triggered something so deep inside him, he barely recognized the sounds coming from his own throat and he struggled to remember to keep humming around Dean’s cock.

It took little to push Sam beyond coherent thought, and though he knew Dean’s beast would be unhappy, he sucked hard and pulled off of Dean’s cock with a loud wet pop. He immediately crawled up Dean’s body, capturing his lips and pressed his suddenly lubed cock against Dean’s hole. He forced himself to go slowly though all he wanted to do was thrust deeply into his lover as their tongues warred ferociously with one another. _Relax,_ he crooned to Dean and he slowly began to breach his lover.

Dean’s protest was muffled by Sam’s mouth over his own. Though he mentally demanded Sam bring him to completion, that he finish what he’d started with his mouth, Dean started to tense for different reasons. As Sam’s thick cock seemed to split him open, Dean concentrated on kissing Sam, on battling his tongue for control. The beast was disgruntled and giving it some control was the only way Dean could think of to let Sam do this, do this for the both of them.

Sam paused intermittently, fighting his impulses, giving Dean a chance to adjust to him. He sent Dean images of him fucking Dean and what it would feel like when they both came at the same time, with Sam’s fangs buried in Dean’s chest, just over his heart. When he finally felt himself fully inside Dean, his hips pressed tightly against Dean, he began to rock, then give shallow thrusts, searching for the right angle to pleasure Dean’s prostate.

The beast roared and snapped. Dean reacted. _Harder. Faster. Deeper... now. Now!_ he commanded, showing the beast that Sam was still his, that they belonged to each other, and that this was meant to be. “Ungh... ungh... Sam...” Locking his legs around Sam’s waist, Dean dragged him close each time Sam thrust his hips. _Ride me harder baby. Ride me like I’m all yours._ Dean had caught glimpses of Sam’s rage at the vampires who’d dared take something that belonged to him. He understood it only too well, since he could barely control his own rage at the things Azazel had done to Sam, and at the way he’d taken what was Dean’s when he’d been in the form of Dracori. 

Urged on by Dean, Sam pounded into Dean, making sure to hit Dean’s sweet spot with every thrust. He felt the throb of his own Carpathian nature, that brilliant pulsing light inside him growing to envelope and entangle them both. Sam’s head reared back, his fangs lengthened and he buried his fangs in Dean’s chest. The hot spicy taste of his lover’s blood electrified him, and his thrusts came almost frantically until he felt the deep contraction inside him. _Now! Come with me!_ Sam demanded, feeling his balls tighten hard as he continued to drink the lifeblood of his lover.

Blind with lust and love for his lifemate, Dean grasped Sam’s wrist and brought his hand up, sinking his aching fangs into the fleshy part of Sam’s palm, right under his thumb. _You are the light to my dark, and I will come with you anywhere._ His eyes squeezed shut, Dean let himself fall over the precipice with Sam, spiraling hard towards release. Merged fully with Sam’s mind, he shared how he ached for Sam in all the ways only a Carpathian could, and he showed him how only Sam could take those aches away.

_It’s my right to feed you. Only mine. Only mine,_ he chanted, as Sam drank deeply of his essence, pushing away his jealous thoughts of Azazel forcing Sam’s body to take from others. Just the thought had him clenching his inner muscles harder around Sam’s cock, milking him dry. 

_It is only you I hunger for,_ Sam said, giving a soft groan as Dean clenched around him. Collapsing on top of Dean, he withdrew his fangs, lapping over the wounds. He wanted more of Dean’s blood, but they had all night. There was no rush. In his mind, he showed Dean dreams of where they’d go, of the things they’d do, of all the places they’d make love. “I felt so helpless, watching, trying to bide my time until I could fight Azazel. Every time a vampire even approached near you I wanted to rip it apart. Every time Azazel pretended to be me when he was talking to you, my blood boiled. I was certain he’d won, that we’d lost, because... because that’s the way it’s always been in my life. Until you.” He finally pulled back and looked into Dean’s endless green eyes. “You are my lifemate, my love, my only. I give into your keeping my heart, my soul, my mind, and my body. I have faith you will protect me until I have learned these new ways and beyond. I have faith that when the time comes for us to stand together to fight some evil that someday, we will fight as equals. Until that day, I will… try… to listen to you.” Sam grinned down at him.

Reaching up, Dean pushed the long strands of hair out of Sam’s eyes and gave a lazy smile. “Like you listened when I told you to go? You’re lucky you wore me out before you reminded me of it.” Raising himself up, he kissed Sam lightly. “You are my lifemate, and we will always stand together, in good times and in bad. I understand that, even if...” he nodded, but trailed off.

“Even if I’m a pain in your ass sometimes?” Sam teased, slowly pulling out of Dean then settling back down on top of him. “You ever made love on a roof underneath the stars?” Hearing the soft rain outside he added, “Sometime when it’s not been raining, that is. Did you or I start that storm?”

“I’m sure we will... make love on the roof, in the rain... hot rain,” Dean said, stroking Sam’s back, unable to stop touching him. “We’re not done yet,” he said smugly, letting his thoughts wander to how they’d make love again, and letting Sam feel the proof of his words. “Oh yeah... not even half done.” 

“Incorrigible,” Sam murmured, capturing Dean’s lips in yet another fiery kiss.

THE END


End file.
